Crossing the Siegfried line
by Maxisback
Summary: Most people believe Siegfried Farnon being rather lucky when it comes to women. Only with the women he loves he's in a lot of trouble.
1. Chapter 1

_**Crossing the Siegfried line**_

An "All Creatures Great and Small" fanfiction

All rights to "All Creatures Great and Small" belong to James Herriot, his heirs and publishers and whoever else got involved with it. I only want to play a bit in Mr. Herriot's sandbox …

And I have to thank Chinoise, my beta-reader. She did great with this story.

_**Chapter 1: For better and worse**_

London, October 1945

The Diary

_Today my love is to be married. This morning the only man I've ever truly loved and wanted to be with stood in front of the altar, promising to love and to cherish his bride until death might part them._

_I still don't really understand what happened. All through the war, even after the one fatal night, I've thought: "When the war is over and I'm free again, I'll go back home and then things will work out." Every night before I fell asleep I mused about how it would be when I'd finally return to Yorkshire and see him again. I was sure it would only take a few words and we'd fall in each others' arms again._

_What an utter fool I was! Hadn't I been told often enough that he's quite a ladies' man? Weren't all the village gossips back home always talking about his womanizing? And didn't I, arrogant as I was, often smile in amusement, thinking about all the women who were head over heels in love with him? Some of them weren't even above borrowing other people's animals in order to make a call to his surgery! Inwardly I'd named them "fools" – and now it looks as if I'd be the biggest among them, a perfect imbecile. How does the old saying go? Pride goes before a fall. How could I have believed that he'd patiently wait until I made up my mind? How could I ever believe that he would still be there, loving and caring, when I returned from London? I've disappointed and hurt him not only once, but twice; I had my chances with him and I've utterly messed them up. It's no one's fault as mine, but nevertheless I feel like throttling Caroline Fisher._

_She was never a favourite of mine. Even at school I couldn't stand her constant "My daddy is a big man and therefore I'm a very special little princess" attitude. Besides, I've always thought that Caroline has the emotional and intellectual depth of a not too bright jellyfish. And her appearance that she's so proud of – she's got eyes like a cow! But that's probably why he thinks she's appealing: He likes cows. But unlike the animals he operates on, he takes Caroline to bed. That's the most crushing blow of all._

_Caroline Fisher marrying the man I love – actually it's the joke of the year. Only I can't laugh about it, because I know him – and I also know that he wouldn't marry her if he weren't in love with her. I remember only too well how Agatha Pemperbroke – an old friend of his mother, who has known him since he was a "gangly laddie in short trousers" – told me once that he'd rather face a raging bull than a woman with the intention of getting him down the aisle. She told me, "I'm sure nothing can make him run as fast as his girlfriend starting to talk about him meeting her dear parents."_

_Even my friend Prudence's letter to me shows a certain degree of wonder: "... and there's the talk of the town: Caroline Fisher is engaged to marry –no one else than your old admirer Siegfried Farnon. You can't imagine what an uproar the announcement made! Half of Yorkshire's female inhabitants are probably crying while the other half gossips about how dear ol' Caroline managed to get him to propose. More than a few think that she's with child, and yesterday, as I was with Saxon down at the market, I heard that Caroline is to have twins and is already so fat that Farnon will have to roll her down the aisle. I don't believe a word of that, but I'm already starting to wonder what Darrowby will talk about in the future when there won't be any stories about Farnon's newest conquests anymore. Of course, there's always the younger Farnon, who's got a rather interesting love life too, but in matters of charm and charisma he certainly can't compare with his older brother."_

_Prudence is right about that. Although Tristan Farnon is the more handsome of the brothers – compared to alpha dog Siegfried, he is only a cute whelp._

_Actually I've known Tristan longer than Siegfried. I can't exactly remember when I met Tristan for the first time, although I do recall that it was at a party in Edinburgh and I remember that he came as the friend of a friend. Yet I don't remember who brought him, and I certainly would have totally forgotten him if not for his remarkable older brother whom I met a few weeks later._

_It was love at first sight – or better said, I felt impressed on the spot - though the first I saw of him was his backside! From the rear I could tell he had a rather fine seat for a man his age – nicely trained by many hours on horseback, running around on farms, climbing over fences and chasing unwilling patients._

_It was about a year after father had died and let me the estate. Even then I knew I wanted to breed horses, but as long as old McCaverty administered the estate I couldn't get the cows totally out. However, in March of 1942 he finally retired and, as he'd always said he would, moved back to Scotland. One week later I'd already sold half of the heifers, gotten the old stables cleaned out and renovated the place. At the end of April, 1942 I bought my first three mares._

_That was when I decided to change vets. Until then it had always been old Henry Screwton over at Brawton who'd looked after our animals, but even McCaverty always said that Screwton wasn't exactly a genius when it came to horses. He didn't have much experience riding horses and admitted himself that he wasn't too fond of these "fidgety, nervous beasts."_

_However, George Hulton had told me that the "new Darrowby vet" – actually he wasn't too new anymore, as he already had been two or three years in residence – would be a "real fine horseman," so I called for him when Dandina injured her leg in the pasture._

_Only two hours later the groom announced, "Vet's here." I'd just come home from running some errands and had to change before going to the stables. In the meantime, the groom was showing Dandina to the vet – and so it was that I had my first view of that adorable backside, because he'd just bent down to check the hoof of Dandina's injured leg._

_The next thing that registered with me was the back of his head, the reddish-blond hair already slightly thinning and the skin of his neck bright pink with sunburn. And then there were his hands, stroking along Dandina's leg – strong but nevertheless gentle hands with long, pliable fingers, slowly gliding over the mare's sinews with the tenderness only a real horseman can achieve._

_My approach and the groom greeting me didn't make him look up. He first finished his examination of the leg, then straightened his back, petted the mare's neck and offered me his hand, smiling with those blue grey eyes. "Good morning. I'm Siegfried Farnon, the vet."_

_His face showed clearly that he wasn't young anymore, but his smile made him look almost boyish. And although Siegfried Farnon certainly isn't what my girlfriends in London would call a "sweetie pie", his Roman nose, high forehead, fine mouth and energetic chin were all evidence that he's an intelligent, strong-willed man with a sense of humour and a surprising amount of warmth._

_I introduced myself: "I'm Marjorie Edgerton, the owner ..."_

_"... of this beauty!" he finished for me, while tenderly and expertly scraping Dandina's withers. My mare obviously liked that and put her head on his shoulder, her face relaxed and happy. "You mustn't worry about her, Miss Edgerton. It's only a little scrape which will heal quickly. I take it she's had a tetanus vaccination?"_

_"Yes – only six weeks ago before she came here," I answered._

_"Splendid!" he exclaimed. "Then I'll only have to apply a bit of salve to her wound, and in a few days she'll be as right as rain." While talking, he'd turned, opened his bag, taken out a little jar and bent down again to tend to Dandina's leg. He was incredibly quick in his movements, bustling with energy and liveliness, yet at the same time he radiated patience and a kind of self-confidence which worked well on Dandina. Although she watched him attentively, she didn't display the slightest bit of nervousness. She obviously trusted him – and so did I, from the very first moment._

_Most people would probably think me silly, but I do judge people by how they tread animals. And with Siegfried it wasn't only his way with horses which impressed me, but how he immediately won over Sheeba, my cat. Sheeba was - and still is - a rather reserved lady who normally ignores strangers. However, Siegfried had hardly sat down when Sheeba jumped up on the wing of his chair, scrutinized him for a few seconds, drew her tail up and bumped her head against his shoulder. "Hello, who are you?" He smiled at her and stroked her back with one finger. Sheeba once again looked at him and then sneaked on his lap, stretched herself luxuriously and started to purr under his petting fingers._

_"How do you do that?" I wondered. "Sheeba's normally very reserved around strangers."_

_He laughed, showing a row of strong, white teeth and a lot of tiny wrinkles around his eyes. "One of the secrets of my profession – or rather simply put, I like cats."_

_"You also like horses, don't you?" I asked. "Lord Hulton told me you're doing some riding yourself."_

_"Unfortunately I don't have many opportunities to ride nowadays," he replied while I poured him tea. "I had to put my old gelding down a few months ago."_

_"How sad! And you don't intend to get yourself another horse?"_

_He sighed. "I'd love to. The problem is that the practise keeps me very busy. Besides, we're at war and I don't know how long it will be until I'll get called to duty."_

_"I thought vets weren't being called."_

_"I volunteered," he informed me. "I served as a pilot before the war, and with the lack of pilots nowadays I thought it necessary to volunteer."_

_I sipped my tea. "Well, perhaps you'd like to ride one of my horses sometime as long as you're still here?" I offered. "You know I've got five of them – and at the moment I'm the only rider here, so I could do with a bit of help. Of course I intend to hire someone - but with the war it's rather difficult to get a good rider."_

_"You really intend to build up a stud, don't you?"_

_"Yes, I do – but I'm of course aware that I have to wait until the war is over. At the moment it's more important to produce milk and meat."_

_"And you intend to administer your estate yourself, Miss Edgerton?"_

_I shook my head. "I know my limits, Mr Farnon. I'm not too bad with horses, but I don't have a clue about livestock. Next week a new steward will start to work here, so I'll get a chance to learn more. But to come back to the horses - I really need some help in matters of riding. If you could get one of my horses out now and then I'd be very grateful indeed."_

_He emptied his cup and granted me another one of his boyish smiles. "I'd love to – especially if I could get you to come with me, Miss Edgerton." Pulling his old-fashioned watch out of his vest and looking at it, he jumped up. "I'm afraid I have to go, Miss Edgerton. As much as I've enjoyed our little chat and your charming company – duty calls."_

_

* * *

  
_

Marjorie looked up from what she'd written, pulling her shawl closer around her pyjamas-clad shoulders. She sat at her little desk in the bedroom of her flat and realized that the window was open. Some of the cold night air and mist had crept into the room and made her shudder. Chewing at the end of her pen, she looked out on the empty street and sighed. None of her friends in London knew that she was still here, because she'd announced that she would go back to her estate in Yorkshire for a long stay. "Actually," she thought, "I had originally intended to move permanently and to come back here just for a short visit now and then." But then Prudence's letter had arrived. Since then, Marjorie had only left her flat for meals at the little Indian restaurant around the corner, absently-minded munching down the food. The entire week she'd been in a state of shock, her mind making up the most improbable schemes about rushing to Yorkshire and stopping Siegfried's wedding.

But now it was done. Siegfried was truly and really married to Caroline and they undoubtedly at this very moment were celebrating their wedding night. He was lost to her once and forever, and as much as it hurt, Marjorie knew that she would have to go on with her life – a life without Siegfried. The only problem was that life without him meant that she couldn't go back to Yorkshire, at least not at the moment. In Yorkshire she wouldn't only have to deal with him as her vet – and her estate was big enough that the vet had to come over at least once a fortnight – but she would also have to see him on social occasions. To avoid him at home was impossible, at least not without making a fuss about it.

Yet what was she to do if not to return home? Of course, as the sole heiress of not too small a fortune, Marjorie could afford to remain in London, filling her time with shopping, seeing friends and enjoying the rich cultural life of the big metropolis. Yet the idea of an idle life as a socialite had never appealed to her. Besides she knew that she'd probably become bored out of her skin after only a few months of living in London – and then she might easily enter into a relationship with one of her many admirers just because they were always there. Thinking of those admirers, she mused they were nice and it was flattering to have them around, but neither the state secretary Jonny Harcort - who was seen as one of the "up-and-coming men" - nor the handsome Rodney Vickers (penniless, but connected to some of the good old families and incredibly charming) looked to her like the kind of man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. Even Jonathan Viscount Malbrey, heir apparent to the sixth Duke of Gloucester and therefore considered the biggest "catch" of all by her girlfriends, had never been really interesting to her. The only man she'd ever truly wanted was Siegfried Farnon, who'd once called himself a "simply country vet" and who had sometimes even wondered what a well-bred girl like herself could want with "an aging man 15 years your senior, and always smelling slightly of pigs and cows." Yet she had minded neither the smell nor the fact that he worked for long hours, nor had she ever cared about the difference in their ages.

Siegfried. Always Siegfried. As much as she had tried to drive him out of her mind, her thoughts always seemed to circle around him. Although she hadn't seen him in almost two years, she only needed to close her eyes to remember how his hands had felt on her skin and how his kisses had tasted.

The first time Siegfried had kissed her was during a lovely ride somewhere on a hill in the Yorkshire dales. She still remembered that his lips had been rather dry and even a bit raw, and how she'd thought: "You don't get kissed enough". She'd been determined to change that, and she'd looked forward to kissing him very often.

Sitting down on her bed and pulling her legs up, she remembered how after the kiss he'd given her Dandina a peek on the nose, his smile almost a bit shy. He'd looked so young and vulnerable then and at that moment she'd known with a certainty which surprised herself that he was the one, the man she'd waited for all her life.

Now, years later, she knew that was the very moment the trouble had started. As happy as she'd been, she'd also felt frightened by the intensity of her feelings. Having grown up as the only child of a father who'd actually wished for a son and having lost her mother at the age of five, Marjorie had learned independence at a very young age. Even at the posh boarding school her father had insisted she attend, Marjorie hadn't shared the other girls' dreams about meeting the right boy, marrying him and living happily ever after. She'd always wanted a career of her own, something to give her life some meaning besides being a wife and mother.

Falling in love with Siegfried Farnon had left her feeling weak, and as he'd kissed her, she'd caught herself wondering if she should give up her plans for the winter. She'd intended to spend a few weeks in London; with her idea of becoming a horse breeder, it certainly wouldn't hurt to extend her contacts to the nobility. Additionally, she'd thought of attending the school of agriculture and stock breeding in London – she'd always been thorough and wanted to understand what she was doing at her estate.

One kiss – and she'd fought against the temptation to forget about all of her plans in favour of simply staying at Yorkshire with him. Marjorie hadn't liked that line of thought very much. Inwardly she'd scolded herself for being the same kind of fool as the girls at school whom she'd always detested for making their lives revolve around men. Was she beginning to behave like them? And after all, who was this man she'd just kissed? She had to remind herself that Siegfried Farnon was quite well known for being a ladies' man - and that people said he'd change his girlfriends more often than his average clients changed their socks!

It was no good falling too deeply for him, and it certainly would have been a big mistake to give up her plans for her life because of him. As charming as he was, and as touching as Marjorie found the little awkwardness he'd displayed after kissing her – it had been the last thing she'd have expected with a man as experienced as himself – he certainly wasn't marriage material. To him, she probably wasn't much more than another one of his other little flings.

The thought had hurt, but Marjorie was a proud woman; she hadn't intended to act like a love-struck teenager by showing Siegfried how attached she already felt to him. She had been sure that her doing so would have made him run away. Therefore, keeping her tone light, she'd told him about her plans for the winter and had invited him to the farewell dinner she'd organized for her friends.

The party had been a full success and had even given Marjorie the opportunity to discover that her "simple country vet" didn't only look splendid in a tuxedo, but was also an able and enthusiastic dancer. Besides that, he possessed social skills in abundance, charming not only her female friends but winning over the males as well. And at the end of the night he'd even managed to become the last remaining guest without the others noticing that he was still there.

Only he probably hadn't stayed as long as he'd intended, because Marjorie had suddenly started to fret.

Dressing for the night, she'd made sure not to leave her bedroom in a mess. After all, she was an adult, a 23-year-old woman who'd already gotten a bit of experience - and she'd been in love. The logical conclusion had been that she'd later invite Siegfried to stay for the night. It had felt like the right and natural thing to do, even though she had been aware that he probably wasn't as much in love with her as she was with him.

But then, finally alone with him in her sitting room, together with Siegfried on the sofa in front of the fireplace, her courage had left her. She'd thoroughly enjoyed it when he took her in his arms; she'd loved how he'd kissed her and the way his mouth – and that night it had been amazingly soft – had glided down her neck and how his strong hands had held her.

It would have been easy to close her eyes and to stop thinking. Siegfried had obviously known what he was doing and he'd done it with expertise and so much gentleness she'd almost started to cry. Nevertheless, Marjorie had suddenly known that she couldn't go the entire way with him. As much as she'd wanted him, as much as his touch had made her entire body hum with lust and pleasure – she couldn't help but think how it would be, having him leave her in the morning. Had Siegfried made love to her that night, the realization that he was now with another woman would have broken her heart.

Empathic as always, Siegfried had noticed how she'd tensed in his arms and he'd reacted immediately. Smiling at her, he'd kissed the tip of her nose and said: "It's rather late and we both have to get up early tomorrow. So we should call it a day." Another sweet kiss, this time directed at her mouth, and then he'd stood up. "I'm going to miss you, Marjorie – very much."

She'd brought him to the door where she'd gotten another indication of Siegfried as the perfect gentleman: Compliments for her hospitality, thanks for the invitation, another embrace and a kiss – and then she'd stood on the threshold, watching the lights of his car disappearing down to the street. Only then had she allowed herself to cry.

* * *

London then – Marjorie had kept herself very busy there, which hadn't been much of an effort because an old friend of her father had asked her to work for Whitehall shortly after she'd arrived. Pushing aside her plans about the agricultural college – it was after all war, and she'd felt obliged to do her share in the fight for the freedom of her country – she'd started to work at the ministry.

The longing for Siegfried she'd shoved firmly into the back of her mind. She'd written him a letter a week after she'd arrived at London, but only gotten a short card back on which he'd told her that he was very busy. That card had been a clear signal that he wasn't interested in keeping in contact.

Four weeks later, Captain David Borrows had moved into the little office opposite of Marjorie's – and suddenly it had seemed that at least once a day every female in the building needed something from the department for linguistic and translations. Marjorie had understood it – the former officer of the Royal Dragons, though he'd lost one arm in Africa, had been an exceptionally handsome young man. He was also the son of a diplomat, had therefore travelled around the world and mastered not only German and French, but also Italian, Spanish and even Japanese. He was a hard worker, a dedicated horse man and simply fun to be with. And although almost every girl at Whitehall would have given her arm for a date with him, he'd fancied Marjorie, showering her with flowers and sweet little gifts. Marjorie had of course felt flattered, and she'd really liked him. So she hadn't shied away when he kissed her during the weekend they spent at the estate of a friend. Before she'd really known what had hit her, she'd found herself engaged to the handsome Captain.

Marjorie hadn't actually been in love with David - at least not in the way she'd been; in love with Siegfried. Yet the fact that her emotions for David were different from those she'd felt with Siegfried was something she'd seen as an advantage. Siegfried had stirred up new feelings which frightened her. She'd always felt helpless and lost with him, while with David she'd just been comfortable. He'd driven away the loneliness from which she had suffered; he'd kept her entertained and had made her laugh.

For a few weeks it had felt right to be with him, but then, one night he'd called on her, looking rather grave. The ministry had attached him to the embassy in Washington. "I want you to come with me – as my wife. What do you think, Marjorie? Shall we tie the knot next week?"

After two days of soul-searching, Marjorie had called the engagement off. She hadn't wanted to leave England and she'd become aware that liking David and having fun with him wasn't enough for a lifetime – especially while she was still pining for Siegfried. Besides, Marjorie had had a talk with her friend Harriet who – after a long and very complicated courtship – had just married the love of her life. If anyone could understand Marjorie's emotions and her fears, it was Harriet, who'd gone through many of those same feelings herself. However, instead of dismissing Marjorie's confession of her dilemma regarding Siegfried with "Just forget all about him" - as Marjorie had expected her to - Harriet had wondered how Marjorie could be so sure that Siegfried didn't reciprocate her feelings for him.

"You know, my husband had his share of flirtations and even affairs, but that didn't keep him from falling in love with me. How do you know that your vet isn't longing for you too?"

"Because he didn't even try to keep in contact with me!" Marjorie replied.

"Dear, it was you who left him – and knowing you and your pride, I'm pretty sure you didn't show him how hard it was for you to let him go." Harriet had smiled at Marjorie. "I believe that a man who's able to make you feel as you do must be very special. And from what you've told me about Siegfried, he seems to be one of the rare examples of his gender who are not only intelligent, but at least to a certain degree able to understand women. I think you should fight for him - or you'll probably regret it for the rest of your life."

A few days later, after David and Marjorie had finished the big project they'd worked on for weeks and while David was preparing for his departure to Washington, Marjorie had gotten a fortnight off. Still having her friend's advice in mind, she'd decided to spend her holiday in Yorkshire. But after settling down at her place, she'd discovered that the idea of calling on Siegfried had seemed much easier when she was still in London than it was now, only a few miles away from Darrowby.

For two days she'd searched every animal in her barns, hoping to find one in need of a vet. Yet all the beasts on her estate had been in exceptionally good health, and her new steward was such a responsible man that all vaccinations were even up to date. Sheeba, normally prone to vomiting after travel, hadn't given Marjorie the pretence for a call to Skeldale either. Actually it had seemed as if every animal within a ten-mile radius of her estate was doing well, as neither by riding out nor by strolling over the hills could Marjorie discover the familiar black Rover in any of the streets or farmyards.

On her third day back home, Marjorie began to wonder if Siegfried had joined the RAF and wasn't in the area anymore. Becoming even more nervous, she'd decided to call on her old friend Prudence, who had recently moved back to Darrowby. With Prue being rather fond of a bit of tittle-tattle, she certainly would know what Siegfried, the darling of the town's gossip mongers, was doing.

Prue's new place was just at the other end of Darrowby when one came from Marjorie's estate, which meant whenever someone drove to Prue through town, he passed Skeldale House on his way.

Crossing the market place and seeing the old house with its ivy covered walls in front of her, Marjorie already felt her heart beginning to pound. She drove along the stone walls of the backyard – and suddenly heard a familiar voice. Siegfried was calling for his dogs, obviously just starting his afternoon rounds.

For a second, Marjorie thought about stopping. But then the black Rover shot out of the gate with the tires squealing and the four dogs bellowing as it quickly disappeared down the street.

Even if Marjorie hadn't heard his voice, she'd have known for sure then that Siegfried was still in residence. His driving style was notorious and she was sure that no one except him would dare to drive out of Skeldale's backyard like that.

Still smiling, Marjorie arrived at Prudence's place a few minutes later, enthusiastically greeted by her friend's guide dog Saxon. While cuddling him, it wasn't long before Prudence told Marjorie the story of how Saxon had been poisoned and nearly died, "if not for Siegfried Farnon being such a great vet."

Prue told the story while preparing and serving tea. Now she was sitting down opposite Marjorie and fell silent for a moment. Breathing deeply, she said, "Marjorie, I'm very well aware that I shouldn't pry in your private affairs, but I'm afraid I've already done so." She fell silent again, stirring her tea thoughtfully.

Marjorie cleared her throat. "What happened, Prue?"

Once again the blind woman hesitated, obviously feeling awkward. "You know, it was you who recommended Siegfried Farnon to me. You told me he was your friend, but with you knowing almost everyone around here, I didn't think much of it – until he came here and we talked about you. From how he sounded, it was very obvious that he cares deeply about you."

Marjorie sat up in her chair, almost dropping her teacup. "Really?" She knew that her friend, despite being blind, was a very good judge of character and people's feelings. Nevertheless she wondered – Siegfried being obvious? She wouldn't have expected that.

"Definitely!" Prue stated firmly. "And the night we watched over Saxon, I told him about John and then asked him if he was married. His answer was – and I quote him – that until now he'd never felt about someone so strongly – at least not about someone who felt so deeply about him, too."

Marjorie couldn't manage more than a weak "Oh." She felt as though her world had been turned upside down, and she didn't know how to cope with that. But at the same time there was already a little voice in the back of her mind, singing joyfully, "He loves you! He cares about you!"

She would have hugged her friend right there and then, but Prudence obviously wasn't finished with what she had to say. "The very next day I got the letter in which you announced your engagement to David."

Now it was Marjorie's turn to take a deep breath. "You told him, didn't you?" She couldn't help but sound slightly accusing.

Prudence sighed. "I know I shouldn't have done so, but he came to have another look at Saxon. I felt rather obliged because I simply couldn't bear the thought of this nice man fostering vain hopes regarding you. So I told him you were engaged."

Marjorie closed her eyes. "How did he react?" she asked quietly.

Prue shrugged her shoulders. "Not too well, I can tell you. It was evident that he was shocked and hurt. For a moment he only stood in the door and said nothing. Then it was as if he'd kicked himself back in gear in order to say the right things – like asking me to give you his regards. But his voice was flat and he sounded as if he were truly heartbroken." Prudence rose up and walked over to the sideboard where she poured scotch into a glass. "Marjorie, I know it's no business of mine, but I've come to care about the man. He's kind-hearted and sensitive and he certainly doesn't deserve to be hurt like that."

* * *

Two hours later Marjorie was back at her own home – and finally she did what she had wanted to do days before: She called Skeldale House.

The phone rang five times and then Marjorie heard the dry voice of Mrs Hall, Skeldale's old housekeeper: "Darrowby 385."

Marjorie cleared her throat. Her heart was beating so madly she feared it could be heard on the other end of the line. "Hello, Mrs Hall. It's Marjorie Edgerton speaking. Is Mr Farnon in?"

"Would you like to talk to Mr Siegfried or Mr Tristan Farnon?"

"Mr Siegfried, please."

"I'll inquire if he's available. Just a moment, please."

The moment seemed to stretch endlessly and while she waited. Marjorie had a vision of Mrs Hall telling Siegfried about her call and him shaking his head, saying he didn't want to take it. She almost expected to get Mrs Hall again as she heard steps on the floor coming towards the phone. But then there was Siegfried's voice, a bit hoarse and obviously very much surprised: "Hello, Marjorie."

This time Marjorie's bedroom was a mess when she'd finally heard the engine of a car in the driveway. She'd spent the last two hours pulling frocks out of her closet, trying them on and not feeling able to decide what to wear, but at least her frenzied running around in her bedroom had been a diversion from her nerves and anxiety. And now, as she was still getting into her shoes, she heard the door bell and voices in the hall: Siegfried's energetic baritone, her housekeeper's rather creaky soprano. And then there was the sound of footsteps approaching the living room, and Marjorie, finally in her shoes, tugged at her red frock and made her way down the stairs.

Entering the living room, she saw Siegfried bent over the sofa, petting Sheeba. As he heard her approach, he turned around, displaying a tense smile.

For a moment Marjorie only looked at him. His fair skin was already sporting a summer sunburn; nevertheless, there were dark shadows under his eyes. And those eyes – they were sad and distant. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Marjorie tried to start the speech she'd prepared for hours - but somehow she couldn't manage the words. Instead, she heard herself stammering something about how she'd worked on what to say, but every word sounded stupid and shallow. How could she explain her engagement to David? She could hardly tell Siegfried that she had been disappointed in him, because Siegfried had never done anything to disappoint her. All the doubts, all the insecurities which had led her into David's arms – Siegfried hadn't caused them. It all been in her head and she hadn't even given him a chance to deal with any of it. She hadn't trusted him - and therefore she had hurt him. And now, as he was standing in front of her, she could hardly bear to look in his eyes. It was as if they'd lost their shine entirely.

She still was stammering – about what a madhouse the ministry had become and how odd people reacted to the war, and David - well, David and she certainly had rushed things by becoming engaged.

"If you're happy then I'm happy, too. Congratulations on your engagement!" He proved himself once again to be a perfect gentleman.

Marjorie thought her heart would break as she listened to him. Why hadn't she seen before how deeply he cared?

"I'm trying to tell you the engagement was a mistake, Siegfried," she heard herself say.

He bent towards her, his voice almost a whisper. "You mean to say you called it off?"

"It only lasted a few days ..." And then she couldn't help herself – she had to ask him: "Did you mind awfully much?"

"Yes," he burst out. "It was a shock."

"I'm so sorry." Marjorie wanted to embrace him, but she didn't dare. Yet she knew that this time she needed to show him how she really felt, so she proceeded: "I think far too much of you to hurt you in any way."

Once again he made it easy for her. Smiling tenderly and happily he said: "It's just wonderful that you're back, my dear."

He reached for her hand and Marjorie was sure that he wanted to kiss her. But there was something else she had to tell him and so she stepped away, lifting Sheeba up in her arms and moving towards the window. He deserved the truth and he needed to know that she was only home for a few days before returning to her job. She couldn't risk hurting him again by raising his hopes once more.

To her relief – so deep a relief that she feared her knees would give way – he not only understood, but offered her full support. And now the shine in his eyes was back as was the gentle smile she'd missed so much. Stroking Sheeba's head with one finger, he said quietly, "Would you mind putting this expensive lady down for a moment?" As he bent forward, his mouth met hers and his hands reached for her arms, pulling her softly towards him.

Marjorie had known that she loved him, but she hadn't been aware of how much. In this moment she would have happily given up her career and all of her dreams in exchange for scrubbing floors at Skeldale house for the rest of her days, if only that meant she could be close to him.

The next few days passed as if in a dream. Of course, Marjorie had many social obligations and Siegfried was as always very busy in his practise; nevertheless, they managed to see each other every day. Sometimes it was only for tea, for a stroll along the river or for an early morning ride over the hills, but the time they spent together was filled with tenderness, laughter and a wonderful, deeply satisfying feeling of belonging together. They discovered more about each other and delighted in learning how much they had in common. It wasn't only their mutual love of horses and country life; it wasn't only that they both enjoyed a wide variety of music - starting with Bach, going over the romantics to Jazz - and that both were connoisseurs of fine food and old wine; that they were well-read and loved the some books and that they could laugh about the same things. It reached deeper and resulted in a connection which made both feel as if they would have waited all their lives to become a couple.

Based on that, Marjorie didn't worry anymore about how different their tempers were. On the contrary, she enjoyed the contrast. Of course, Siegfried was sometimes erratic, he tended to contradict himself, he was certainly very impulsive and had a rather eccentric streak, but Marjorie, being a calm person who thought things over carefully, found that his spontaneity and zest for life were just what she needed. Being with Siegfried was never boring, always full of excitement and joy.

There was only one shadow hanging over them: the war. Marjorie mostly managed to push that thought to the back of her mind, but Siegfried worried a great deal about it. He'd already gotten the letter calling him to his unit and he was already organizing his practise to function for some time without him. And in contrast to the optimistic attitude he normally had towards life, he didn't believe in the superiority of the British forces over the Germans. While most other people, even some of Marjorie's colleagues at Whitehall, were boasting "We'll get the Germans down in a few weeks," Siegfried proved that being a "country vet in the backwaters of England" didn't mean one wasn't well informed or able to do one's math.

"We will have to fight them on the continent and it certainly won't be one great, glorious battle, but months of struggling with blood, sweat, tears and death. It will be crawling through dirt, fighting for every inch of land ..."

Marjorie and Siegfried had just strolled over her estate and up a hill, and were now resting in a bed of heather, both lying on their backs and looking up at the clear, blue sky. Turning around on her side and bracing herself on her elbow, Marjorie looked down at Siegfried. "Are you afraid, Siegfried?"

He sighed, raised his hand, caught one of the curls which had fallen out of her chignon and wrapped it tenderly around his finger. "Only a fool wouldn't be, my dearest. I know it's no picnic I'm about to go to, but a war." Pulling her down, he kissed her, holding her tightly and turning her until she was on her back as he looked down at her. For a few seconds he scrutinized her as if seeing her for the very first time. "You know how I feel about you, Marjorie, don't you?"

Putting her hand on the back of his head, she combed through his fine hair with spread fingers. "I believe I do. And," she added with a smile, "you know what? I feel the same."

Bending down, he kissed the tip of her nose. "Marjorie, under normal circumstances I'd ask you a question now. However, with the war hanging over us ..." He fell silent, looking grave and sad.

Marjorie put her hand on his smooth shaven cheek. "Some people think the war is a reason to get one's personal affairs in order."

Once again he studied her face. "Do you think so?"

Marjorie smiled and placed as kiss on his chin. "You must really like me."

"Hmm?"

"Well," she chuckled, "it's said that the quickest way to make you run is talk about marriage."

He furrowed his brow. "Marjorie, there's a lot said about me, but I can assure you: A good deal of it isn't true. I'm certainly no candidate for sainthood, but ..."

Marjorie stopped him by laying a finger on his lips. "Siegfried, if I believed everything people say about you, I wouldn't be here."

He smiled, but only for a second before he became serious again. "You didn't answer my question, Marjorie. Do you think that wartime make it necessary to ..." This time it was Siegfried who didn't finish the line, He just gazed at her instead.

Marjorie pulled him close. "No, Siegfried. For the moment I just want to enjoy what we have."

* * *

They hadn't even gotten much time for that. Only a few days later, Marjorie found herself buried in papers in a rather improvised office at the "secret location," an old castle at a very lonely place in the Yorkshire moors. And though it was only an hour's drive from Darrowby, there was no chance for even a quick visit to Skeldale. Marjorie wouldn't have been permitted to leave – and even if she'd gotten time to do so, she wouldn't have found Siegfried home. Three days after her departure he'd left Darrowby.

But at least there were letters this time, though his had to go through Whitehall, where they were forwarded to Marjorie – after someone had read them. With her letters it was the same. They were censored before being sent to Siegfried.

Under these circumstances, Marjorie sometimes found writing very difficult. She wasn't allowed to mention anything about what she was doing, where she was doing it or with whom she worked. She learned quickly that the censors sometimes thought even a line like "I'm pretty busy, but my work is interesting" contained too much confidential information. And with strangers reading every word, Marjorie really didn't feel like waxing lyrically about her feelings. So her letters were mostly about her life at home, how she missed her cat and her horses, what she heard from the friends back home – Prudence wrote to her regularly, giving her the news from Darrowby – and her hopes for the future.

Siegfried was less restricted in his writing. He told her about his flying and how much he loved it; he told her funny stories about his comrades and him being the "grandfather" among them and he even found a way to express his feelings by quoting poetry and music. Being the son of a conductor, he'd obviously gotten a good education in matters of music, sometimes finishing his letters by simply writing down a few notes out of an opera. Marjorie, though not too bad a piano player, always needed to sing the musical notes in order to recognize them. This afforded her colleagues much amusement when they saw her re-reading a letter, quietly singing something and then beaming. But how could she have done otherwise when he came up with the melody of a sweet love song?

Nevertheless it was a long, cold winter without him. The fact that he had finished his training and was now flying real missions didn't help Marjorie through the long nights, when the wind rattled at the windows of her bedchamber and she lay awake, worrying about him.

And then it happened: For three long weeks she didn't get a letter, but instead a sad shrug of shoulders from the girl who normally got the mail for her from London. On the morning when she'd decided to ask one of her friends at Whitehall to do some research about a certain Captain Siegfried Farnon – and was regretting that she hadn't insisted on marrying him because as his wife she'd have gotten information over the official channels – a letter from Darrowby arrived.

It was from Helen Herriot, and its content made Marjorie cry with relief – and further worry. Siegfried's plane had been shot down over the Channel, but luckily an English fishing boat had plucked him out of the cold water and taken him back to England. However, he'd broken his right arm and contracted pneumonia.

_"For a few days,_" Helen Herriot had written, "_he was in a rather poor state, running a very high fever. Problem in his case is Siegfried not only caught pneumonia from being in the frigid Channel water, but he had gotten a case of Brucellosis earlier, which made his condition even worse. When I visited him in hospital he was hardly conscious and I was extremely worried. But now he's on his way to recovery and has told me on phone that he'll get a fortnight of leave for recreation. Next Wednesday he's to come home to Skeldale."_

Nothing could have kept Marjorie away. With Helen Herriot's letter in her hand, she went to her commanding officer and asked him for a few days off. He wasn't too happy, but he appreciated Marjorie's and had seen how miserable she'd been during the last several weeks, so he not only granted her the three days of leave but also arranged transport for her to the next village.

The following Thursday saw her in a bus rattling over the Pennines on its way to Darrowby – after she'd spent almost two hours standing at the station, waiting in the icy wind of a cold April day. Yet even being frozen to the bone couldn't spoil her happiness. In only one or two hours she'd see her beloved. And perhaps she would even be able to persuade him to come home with her. He'd certainly be more comfortable at her quiet home with her and her housekeeper looking after him than he could be at Skeldale with the constantly ringing phone, clients coming to the surgery day and night and two assistants trampling up and down the stairs.

The bus was rather full, but Marjorie had managed to get a seat in the second row and now she was looking out of the window at the austere but familiar and beloved landscape. There was Hershey House, the farm where old Alan Grifford and his wife lived; there were the Bates family's sheep grazing peacefully at their still snow-covered pasture; there was Jim Rathers leading his big cart horse towards a field – familiar places, familiar sights. And then the bus came to a stop, picking up a farmer's wife on her way to the shops in town, heavily wrapped with a big shawl over her head and carrying a cradle. Entering the bus, she pushed her shawl back and immediately started to chat with two older women who sat behind Marjorie.

The bus driver turned around. "Can't you sit down on your arse, woman? I don't have all the time of the world, you know."

"Are the Nazis already here or are we on the bus to Darrowby?" the farmer's wife replied, but moved towards the back of the bus, suddenly stopping again and exclaiming: "I don't believe my eyes! Is that really you? And how handsome you look in uniform! But you're too thin and much too pale - and what happened to your arm? Were you injured?"

The bus driver looked over his shoulder again, rolled his eyes and - starting his engine again - got the bus back on the road.

But now the soldier to whom the woman had spoken gave his answer – and Marjorie felt like fainting as she heard his voice: "Hello, Ms Marston."

Turning around, she could only stare at him. He wore the blue coat of a RAF officer with the right sleeve hanging loosely down while his arm was in a sling underneath. In greeting the farmer's wife he'd taken his cover down, so Marjorie could see that his hair was cut shorter than she was used to seeing it, oddly emphasizing just how small his face had become. The farmer's wife had been right: He was much too pale and he'd obviously lost weight, the uniform's jacket very loose around his haggard form.

"Siegfried!" Had she yelled it or only whispered his name? Marjorie neither knew nor cared. Jumping up she stumbled down the aisle towards him. "Siegfried!"

"Marjorie!" He'd seen her too and reached out for her with his healthy hand. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on my way to see you!" she exclaimed, smiling and crying at the same time. At that moment the bus rumbled over a bridge. Marjorie lost her footing and would have fallen down if not for the sturdy old farm worker next to Siegfried, who caught her.

Siegfried tried to rise up. "Here – have my place."

Marjorie thanked the farm worker and shook her head. "Certainly not! You would bump your injured arm."

"That's why I'm getting up to change places with the lady!" the farm worker announced and staggered around Marjorie.

Now the bus driver obviously had gotten enough of the ruckus at the back of his vehicle. "Could you all sit down on your arses?" he yelled. "I don't want deliver you to Darrowby all in a heap!"

The farmer's wife, who had finally found a place in the last row of the bus, obviously felt provoked. "Shut up!" she hollered back. "The officer here is our Mr Farnon and he's got injured in the war! He deserves to have his nice lady next to him."

Siegfried grinned and pulled Marjorie down on the seat the farm worker had just deserted. Pulling her hand up to his mouth, he turned it around and kissed the inside of her wrist. "You look so lovely, Marjorie!" he whispered. He obviously had intended to add something, but was interrupted by a fit of coughing.

"Siegfried, you're still sick! You should be in bed!" Marjorie said anxiously.

"Don't worry, my dearest. I'm fine. They wouldn't have let me out of the hospital if I weren't." Once again he kissed her hand. "I'm more than fine – I'm with you. You know, I didn't even dare to hope that you could make it because I knew I couldn't stomach the disappointment if you hadn't come."

"Nothing could have kept me away, Siegfried." The bus was just rounding a corner, which caused Marjorie to fall against Siegfried's good shoulder. For a moment she snuggled her face against the raw fabric of his coat, deeply inhaling his scent. Despite the strange uniform, it was still familiar – a whiff of rosemary soap, a bit of his honeyed pipe tobacco and some leather.

"I did so miss you, my darling!" He used his chance to kiss her cheek. "How long can you stay?"

"Only three days, but – Siegfried, I've been thinking. Helen Herriot wrote me that she'd air and clean your room at Skeldale for you, but even so – wouldn't you like to stay at my place? I mean, there's no one you're familiar with at Skeldale with James and Tristan being in service too and Helen at her father's place. And your housekeeper is pretty busy with the assistants, I think, and that big house and the phone. You'd certainly get more peace and rest at my home – and Alice Temple and I would love to look after you and fatten you up!"

"What a tempting offer, my love!" He smiled at her. "But what about your reputation? People will talk ..."

"They always do. I don't care," Marjorie replied firmly and pressed his hand. "Please, Siegfried – do come! I'd so love to have you close at least for the little time I can stay."

For the next two days Marjorie was convinced that life couldn't have given her a better gift at this time than having Siegfried at home. After they'd shared a lovingly prepared lunch at Skeldale with Helen, one of his assistants drove the couple over to Marjorie's place where she'd immediately sent Siegfried to bed – he'd looked as if he'd break down at any moment and he was definitely, though he denied it, running a bit of fever again. While he'd slept, she'd been in the kitchen – though her housekeeper wasn't a bad cook, for this occasion Marjorie had wanted to prepare the dinner herself.

On the second day, Marjorie had invited Siegfried on a carriage ride – and as a surprise she'd taken him to Brawton where she'd told him: "I thought you'd like to see your mother – and while you're with her, I'll do my shopping."

However, he'd insisted that she come with him – and so she'd gotten to meet Daphne Farnon, a rather petite woman, very quick on her feet and obviously no less impulsive than her older son, despite her age. She'd welcomed Marjorie with a hug and a kiss, happily exclaiming: "Finally I get to meet you! Siegfried's swooning over you all the time – you like horses and music, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, though I must admit I'm not very fond of Wagner," Marjorie replied.

"Who is? I mean, my late husband was. He was a conductor, you know. I was a singer – a dramatic soprano, would you believe it - with my figure?" As proof, she sang a few measures and then laughed. "I've even done some Wagner – is there anything one wouldn't do for the man one's in love with? However, croaking through Isolde was a tiresome job – I always thought that someone should give her the finishing stroke because she takes so terribly long to die. Unfortunately," she smiled fondly at her son, "Siegfried wasn't up to the job then."

"Mother, you know I only put down animals." He smiled back.

"Considering we're talking about Wagnerian characters – don't you think they're sometimes rather beastly?" Daphne Farnon promptly shouted back.

"Their names certainly are!" Siegfried made a face.

"Oh, stop whining!" His mother ruffled through his hair. "You know, it could have been worse. If you had been born a girl, your father would probably have named you Brunhilde or Woglinde. And considering how much he liked Lohengrin ..."

Siegfried shuddered. "That would have been a good reason for giving myself the finishing stroke!"

"Lohengrin Farnon," Marjorie tested it with a big grin.

"Or what about Gurnemanz?" Daphne Farnon laughed. "Just imagine calling out for Gurnemanz while in a shop! Actually I even had a woman tell me once that I should look after my dog better after she heard me call for Tristan!"

"She'd probably seen Tristan sniffing around on his eternal quest for a drink!" Siegfried commented dryly. "Besides I know a dog named after him – and there's a definite similarity!"

Daphne turned to Marjorie. "Isn't the brotherly love and sweet appreciation my sons show towards each other delightful? Sometimes I wonder if either of them will ever act like an adult around the other. You know, they started to bicker on the day Tristan learned to utter his first comprehensible words - and they haven't stopped. I'd really like to read the letters they're now writing to each other –no doubt Tristan could already get Siegfried's collected works bound as a book."

"A rather thick one, named 'Wise But Unheeded Words of an Older Brother'," Siegfried said.

The two hours Marjorie spent with Siegfried's mother had given her many insights. Siegfried had never spoken much about his family and his childhood, despite the fact that he was obviously fond of his mother. All Marjorie had known about his parents was that they had been musicians, which had always made her wonder how the Farnon brothers had become vets.

The visit had made some of his background clear. His parents obviously had travelled a lot, so he'd spent a lot of his childhood in hotels. The only steady home he'd known during this period of his life had been his grandmother's place in a rural area of Devonshire. His grandmother's second husband had bred horses, and thus young Siegfried had learned to ride. He'd also obviously developed a liking for country life and animals there.

It was their third and last night when things had gone wrong. Marjorie had felt rather gloomy all day – the thought of going back to work the next morning would have been enough to make her sad, but knowing that in only a few days Siegfried would go back to his unit - and that over the coming months she'd constantly worry about him again - drove her to distraction and misery. She knew the statistics about the survival rate of wartime pilots only too well – and he'd already stretched his luck once. What if he didn't make it through a second time? What if she was to receive a letter one day, telling her that Captain Siegfried Farnon had died in the line of duty for king and country?

This fear for Siegfried's life had a disastrous effect on Marjorie. She felt paralyzed, and the fact that she couldn't even tell him – he had enough on his plate already without her fretting – made it even worse. Every smile, every touch, every kiss was like a reminder of his mortality and the fragility of life. There was nothing out there that could protect him, not even her love.

After dinner they'd sat on the sofa and as he'd pulled her in his arms and kissed her – Marjorie hadn't been an inexperienced virgin. She'd known what he'd wanted and in a way she'd wanted it as much as Siegfried did, if not more. As his mouth had glided down over her neck and his hand had cupped her breasts, Marjorie felt like melting into his arms – and at the same time she'd started to tremble in fear. Making love to him now, letting him so close to her – how could she possibly survive without him? He hadn't even started to seduce her in earnest, yet she already felt she was losing herself entirely, becoming a part of him, unable to exist without him. She'd never felt so frightened in her life, torn between her need to be close to him and her fear of losing him. It was something close to panic that made her jump suddenly away from him, babbling about getting another glass of wine and wouldn't he like to try the biscuits Ms Temple had especially made for him? She had known that she was behaving like an idiot; nevertheless, she hadn't been able to return to the sofa - keeping away from him instead as if his touch would burn her skin.

Perhaps if he had caught her, if he had pushed her - she so longed to forget all her fear and panic in his arms! But Siegfried Farnon had never been a man to push. Manners and pride had forbidden it for him and so he'd taken the wine she'd offered him and eaten the biscuits and petted Sheeba while Marjorie sat opposite him in her chair, stiff and miserable and envying her cat who had purred in his lap. Finally he'd smiled at her, yet the smile never reached his eyes. "You have to go rather early tomorrow, so you should try to get some rest. I'll miss you while you are gone. But," he stretched his shoulders, bracing himself, "that's the war, isn't it? And we're certainly not the only people going through it." Bending over her he'd kissed her forehead, cautiously as she was made from glass. "Nighty night, Marjorie – and don't let the bedbugs bite!"

Marjorie had cried the entire night, naming herself a complete and utter fool, an absolute failure, an idiot and a coward. The next morning she'd suffered from a splitting headache and Siegfried was rather reserved, telling her at breakfast that he hated long farewells, so "Let's make it short and painless."

It had been short, but not painless. Marjorie had fought against tears all during her journey back to work, and in the next weeks it had become even worse. Siegfried's hand was still injured and he hadn't been up to writing, so she'd only gotten two cards from Helen Herriot with the PS: "Siegfried wants me to give you his regards."

After Siegfried returned to his unit he'd written her a few letters, but the sense of deep understanding between them was gone. Marjorie had known it was her fault and she'd longed to explain herself to him – but how to do so with a censor reading every word she wrote?

* * *

The fact that at his next leave she hadn't even been in England but had been sent over to Washington had probably been the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. He'd of course registered that her replies to his letters had taken a long time to reach him, and during one of his infrequent leaves in Darrowby he'd finished one of his letters with a bitter remark: "_I don't expect to hear from you soon – you're obviously rather busy with more important things._"

She'd received that letter on a day when she'd already been very much on edge, and in a rush of anger she'd written back: _"I'm sorry to say so, but the world – even my world – doesn't entirely revolve around you, Siegfried._"

She'd regretted her words the very next morning, but it had been too late – the letter was already well on its way to England, and – six weeks later – she received the reply she'd feared: "_It's rather obvious that presently we're not doing so well with our letters. I think we should call off our written correspondence until we're able to talk eye to eye again."_

She hadn't sent a response. What could she have written? That she still loved him, that she longed for him? He'd obviously taken her refusal that last night very badly – and the more she'd thought about that, the more she'd become upset. What had he taken her for? One of his paramours who could think of nothing better than to become a member of the famous Farnon collection of female conquests?

Besides he obviously hadn't missed her for long. Four months after their breakup he'd become injured again – a concussion caused by a bumpy landing. It had gotten him four weeks of leave at home and he'd used them well. Prudence – and yes, Marjorie had told her that her relationship with Siegfried was off without giving out any details - had delivered Marjorie the proof of it in a letter in which she'd written: "_Life in Darrowby is rather dull at the moment with almost all younger men in service, so the local gossips were probably very grateful for the entertainment with which our friend Siegfried Farnon provided them. He was home on sick leave, but obviously he wasn't too sick to attend Lady Hulton's birthday party with Diana Brompton in tow. Now she isn't only a real piece of work, but his on-and-off affair for absolute ages. Yet at the moment it's obviously more 'off' than "on" again, because at the party he directed his famous charm towards one Sylvia Crampton-Forrester, a house guest of the Hultons. As a result, Ms Brompton, obviously not too happy about the straying attention of our local hero, had a go at Ms Crampton-Forrester. It's said she was trying to tell her about her pre-emptive rights on Farnon - who in the meantime proved the old saying, "When two quarrel the third wins the prize" (though after what he made you go through and his behaviour on this occasion one wonders if he's really a prize one would want to win) - with the third in this case being Janet Phillips. During the early morning after the party, Ms Hafers (Janet's neighbour) saw – and these are her words – a 'cheerfully whistling' Farnon leave Janet's place (one wonders if Ms Hafers spent all of the night on the window of her kitchen so as not to miss out on that) looking – I once again quote her – 'like the cat who's gotten the canary' (considering that Janet always loved to wear yellow, though it clashes terribly with her hair, the picture suits - don't you think?). In any case Farnon managed once again to give Darrowby something to talk about and in times like this one has to be thankful even for small favours."_

_

* * *

  
_

For a long time she hadn't heard anything more about Siegfried. Even Prudence had had other things to worry about. But now the war was over – and Siegfried had married Caroline. He'd obviously forgotten all about Marjorie – and she would have to forget him as well. She would take up the offer to do some travelling – it would help her to forget. One day it would no longer hurt to think of Caroline's new husband – and then Marjorie would be able to return to Darrowby to breed horses and to deal with one Siegfried Farnon, MRCVS.

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Crossing the Siegfried line**

Disclaimers: See chapter 1.

I want to thank my wonderful beta-reader Chinoise. I wouldn't know how to deal without her help.

**_Chapter 2: Be careful with what you wish for_**

Darrowby, Yorkshire, Winter 1949

Although he was appreciated by a lot of people, even his closest friends certainly wouldn't have considered Tristan Farnon a "deep thinker." Of course, no one knowing him would have doubted his intelligence either – even his brother, who had never been shy in expressing his assessment of Tristan, had sometimes admitted that Tristan's quick wit often bordered on brilliance. Nevertheless, Tristan Farnon had never been one for brooding and musing. Normally he lived in the happy conviction that almost all problems in life would sooner or later sort out themselves if only one didn't peck at them too much.

So it certainly was a rare sight to behold the younger Farnon leaning on his car in a lonely field, looking out at the grey, snow-covered landscape, obviously deep in thought. If his older brother had seen him he'd probably have worried – and if Siegfried had known that he himself was the reason why Tristan had interrupted his morning rounds, he would have been shocked.

Lighting another one of his favourite Woodbine cigarettes and blowing the smoke into the crisp air, Tristan tried to sort out what had given him such a feeling of dread every time he'd looked at Siegfried in the last weeks.

Actually it was quite ironic: Ever since Tristan could remember, his older brother had been the strong one, the one who knew better and rarely let an opportunity slip to prove it to his younger sibling. If the famous good fairy had come to Tristan only a few months before, offering him the three wishes, one wish would have certainly have been someone knocking Siegfried down a peg or two.

However, the good fairy had never bothered to look after Tristan – probably she thought him already lucky enough. Yet it looked as if another member of her entourage had become a part of Siegfried's life: The older Farnon obviously had married the Ice Queen, and the longer she was in his life, the more Tristan started to fear that her ability to make his brother unhappy would one day lead to Siegfried suffering a breakdown.

Although Siegfried had always been immensely reserved about his private life and would probably have swallowed his tongue rather than utter one bad word about the woman he'd married - the mother of the son he doted on – Tristan knew him too well not to see that Siegfried wasn't happy.

In Tristan's opinion, the trouble began when Caroline Fisher had come in Siegfried's life at the start of the war. Of course, she wasn't too bad looking and she was well bred, well mannered and well off. And although she certainly had never been Tristan's type – he preferred less delicate flowers who didn't looked shocked when a man ordered a second or even a third beer – he'd understood that Siegfried had developed a crush on her. Siegfried had always liked elegant women and he'd never minded a cold attitude. He probably had seen it as a challenge. Besides – and that was something which had always fascinated not only Tristan, but his brother's partner, James Herriot, too – Siegfried always seemed to succeed in making haughty society princesses swoon over him as if they considered him the best invention since red nail polish.

However, Caroline Fisher hadn't been one of the girls who'd immediately started to eat out of Siegfried's hand. It had obviously required a lot of the famous Farnon charm and some serious wooing before she'd given in – and Tristan remembered well that he'd quite enjoyed watching his brother struggling a bit. Yet in the end Siegfried had once again won, and for a few weeks he'd been all smiles and bonhomie. He had actually become so content that he'd even forgiven Tristan blowing up half of the surgery in an attempt to impress one of his girlfriends with a chemical experiment.

But then Caroline had decided to accompany her father to America – and Tristan had learned about her upcoming departure when Siegfried came home in the middle of the night, stomping through the house like a bear with a sore paw and throwing a tantrum about the "infernal mess" in the living room – two empty beer bottles, a few cigarette butts in the ashtray and a magazine on the couch. And because Siegfried had just been at it, he'd done an inspection on Tristan's room too, telling him that he knew a few pigs neater than Tristan and that he expected him to do a thorough cleaning the next day. Unfortunately, Tristan hadn't been at his best that night after the two bottles of beer and a few good goes at Siegfried's old malt, so he'd made the mistake of mentioning that his brother's bedroom wasn't exactly an example of neatness either.

It had gotten him a long, detailed lecture about the difference between a qualified, hard-working vet and an "idle, lazy, good for nothing, useless student," living on the hard-earned money of his poor, hard-working brother without ever wasting one single thought on how said brother had to freeze his butt off due to winter night calvings and how he had to crawl through cow faeces and even worse just for getting his idle, lazy, good for nothing, useless younger sibling an education, the value of which the idle, lazy, good for nothing Tristan didn't really appreciate. ("Siegfried, you've forgotten useless!" – "I've forgotten parasitic and infuriating too, but one doesn't want to exaggerate!")

So things at Skeldale had been back to normal after the short summer romance with Caroline, though for a few weeks Siegfried had moped a bit. However, autumn had already seen the usual parade of young ladies showing of their dressmaker's finest at Skeldale again.

One of them had been the incredible haughty Diana Brompton who'd become something like James Herriot's personal nemesis. James often complained to Tristan that Ms Brompton looked at him as if he were a cockroach. And with James not yet knowing Siegfried as well Tristan did, the young vet had suffered agonies by fearing that Diana Brompton would become Mrs Farnon. Tristan had finally taken him over for a few beers at the Drover's, where he'd told James that Siegfried would rather become a monk than marry Diana Brompton. "I won't deny that my brother's mind often works in very mysterious ways, but when it comes to marriage he's amazingly sensible."

Actually Tristan wasn't so convinced about that anymore. During the war Siegfried obviously hadn't wanted to think about marriage, though he'd been very much in love with Marjorie Edgerton, who Tristan would have welcomed as a sister-in-law with open arms. But Siegfried had obviously had bad timing as far as popping the question, and somehow they'd drifted apart. However, the relationship had probably made Siegfried view the idea of marriage as something not entirely bad.

One evening a few weeks after the brothers had come home from the war, James told Tristan about a conversation he'd had with Siegfried. "And you won't believe it: Looking at my son Jimmy, Siegfried finally said he envied me. I think the war has changed him. He's gotten fed up with playing around and wants someone to belong to - a real home and a family."

In a way Tristan had almost felt hurt. He'd been just ten years old when his father died, and as the senior Farnon had not been a family man or one to save money, life had become rather hard for the brothers and their mother. They had needed to leave the house they'd lived in because the widow hadn't been able to pay the mortgage on it anymore, so they moved into a rather small flat where Daphne Farnon had begun giving singing lessons. Money had been sparse in the Farnon household, and for awhile it had even looked as if Siegfried, at this time a 20-year-old student at Cambridge, wouldn't be able to finish his education.

Yet Siegfried had never been one to be thwarted by such problems. Only two months after his father's death, he'd found himself a job to pay for his college fees: He'd taken over the night watch at a racing horse stable. He had obviously done well, because after awhile the trainer had trusted him to ride two horses at the morning exercises. One of the horses had belonged to a rather eccentric old lady who'd lived in a little cottage close to the racing grounds. While she hadn't had much money, she was a very good hand for horses. So she'd somehow purchased not only the rather successful mare Siegfried had been exercising, but a great yearling upon whom not only she but also her trainer were pinning their hopes.

It had been Siegfried who'd gotten the youngster his basic education. It had been Siegfried who'd ridden him in his first weeks under the saddle, and it had been Siegfried who'd finally become very connected to the stallion after he'd noticed first that he had been suffering from colic. Siegfried's quick reaction had saved the stallion's life and had earned him the gratitude of the stallion's owner.

How far this gratitude had gone, Siegfried only learned a year later after the old lady died. She willed him not only the cottage, but her horses - the stallion at this time being a favourite to compete in the Triple Crown.

Nevertheless Siegfried had sold the stallion only two weeks before one of the big races – and though Tristan had still been a child at the time, he'd realized that giving away the horse he loved had been exceptionally hard for Siegfried. Yet the money for the stallion had not only enabled Siegfried to finish college, but financed a good public school education for Tristan. And there had been more – Siegfried had sold the mare and the cottage too, wisely saving and investing the money. That money, combined with savings from his job as an assistant vet on the racing grounds after graduation, had been enough to buy the practise in Darrowby.

Shortly afterwards Daphne Farnon secured a position as music teacher at a school in Brawton, so she and Tristan moved to Yorkshire too.

Daphne's cottage at Brawton was very small, while Skeldale House had plenty of free space. Tristan loved animals as much as Siegfried – one of the things the brothers had in common – and he enjoyed spending his holidays with his older brother. Accompanying him on his rounds around the farms had certainly influenced Tristan's decision to become a vet as well. Siegfried had been delighted when Tristan told him – in a way, he'd taken on the role of father to his "little brother and though neither brother had ever found it easy to show affection towards the other, Siegfried had understood that Tristan's decision to follow in his footsteps was a compliment to him.

Nevertheless, the following years had been difficult. Siegfried's temper and Tristan's attitude towards his studies – he'd always trusted on his exceptionally good memory and his ability to memorize things after only one reading – hadn't exactly made for a peaceful life together at Skeldale. And though Tristan had sometimes felt hurt by Siegfried's outbursts – despite his being aware that he bore a certain guilt regarding his brother's tantrums - he always viewed Siegfried as the glue that held their family together.

Tristan couldn't understand how Siegfried had fallen so quickly and completely for Caroline. She'd come back from America and waltzed into Siegfried's life as if she'd known he would wait for her during the years she's been away. And Siegfried - proud, independent Siegfried - the leopard who Tristan thought would never lose his spots - had morphed into a purring tomcat, grovelling at the feet of Caroline the Ice Queen.

Only a few weeks after Caroline returned, on the very day Tristan finally received his acknowledgement as a member of the Royal College of Veterinary surgeons, Siegfried had announced that he'd "managed to persuade Caroline" to become his wife". He'd already bought a house near Darrowby and was so eager to move in with Caroline that Tristan sometimes felt like asking him what on earth his brother had done with Siegfried, the confirmed bachelor.

Tristan had applied for a job at the ministry of agriculture in Manniston. He'd definitely done his share of crawling around on hard cobbled floors in pig sties and cow barns, so the prospect of earning his money in a clean, warm office appealed to him very much. Upon getting the job, he'd moved over to the neighbouring town where he'd found himself a nice little flat. Yet as much as he'd looked forward to a new beginning, he'd felt rather sad at leaving Skeldale. An important era in his life had ended and he'd known that he'd miss not only the Herriots, but also his brother.

Tristan had already started to worry about Siegfried. He hadn't been able to put his finger on what exactly made him feel uneasy about his future sister-in-law, but there was definitely something. Of course, Caroline had always been perfectly polite and had done everything that was expected from a happy bride-to-be, but somehow there had always been something amiss.

Tristan hadn't been the only one feeling so. The Herriots hadn't been entirely happy about Siegfried's choice of the future Mrs Farnon either. Even Helen, who was always willing to take people into her heart, had remained reserved, once even telling Tristan that somehow she didn't feel that she could "warm up" to Caroline.

There had been something about her what had kept the people nearest and dearest to Siegfried at a distance – and even Helen hadn't been able to figure out what it was. She'd finally told Tristan: "Perhaps we're the problem. We were all so used to having Siegfried's attention and affection all to ourselves. Caroline probably feels that we're not really used to sharing him yet. And you know, Tris, as his future wife she has a right to become his top priority."

* * *

In the first months after the wedding it had seemed as if Tristan's worries had been unfounded. Siegfried had been happy and content, and after Timothy James Tristan Farnon had been born exactly ten months after the wedding, his very proud uncle Tristan had started to hope that he'd somehow misjudged his sister-in-law's ability to give his brother what he needed. She'd given him a son – and Siegfried, who had always loved children, doted on Tim and could wax for hours about his son's achievements and how he already showed high intelligence ( very much to his brother's and the Herriots' amusement)

However, one night a few months after Tim's birth, Tristan spontaneously decided to have a beer at his favourite pub, the Drover's Inn. And since he was already in Darrowby, he drove over to his brother's house. He hadn't seen Siegfried in at least two weeks, and both of them had been so busy that even their contacts on the phone had been brief ones.

Stopping his car in front of the house, Tristan registered that the door of the double garage was open. Siegfried's Rover was there, but Caroline's blue Jaguar wasn't. As Tristan went towards the house he heard his nephew's wailing.

Siegfried opened the door in shirt sleeves, his crying son on his shoulder. "Hello, little brother! How nice to see you. Do come in!"

"What's up with Timmy?" Tristan asked instead of a greeting.

"He's teething!" Siegfried led Tristan into the big living room, pointing with his chin to the sideboard where a few bottles stood, while soothingly rubbing Timothy's back. "Get yourself a drink and have a seat. You've got a bit of time?"

"Wouldn't you like me to take Tim?" Tristan offered, already reaching for the baby. "You actually look as if you were in a bigger need for a drink than I."

Siegfried gave his son over, putting a kiss on the little one's head. "Perhaps your uncle Tristan is able to distract you a bit while I get us a Scotch."

It worked – Tim caught Tristan's tie, shoved it in his mouth and started to chew on it. Siegfried shook his head. "It must be the smell of your cigarettes and the beer he finds so soothing!" Walking over to the sideboard, he poured two glasses. "That said, after hearing him cry for almost two hours I'm beyond caring about what the taste will do to him." Putting one of the glasses in Tristan's free hand, Siegfried dropped down onto the sofa, yawing.

Tristan drank a sip of the scotch, looking down at his nephew, who yawned too. "It seems the youngest member of the family is rather tired as well."

"Hopefully he'll fall asleep soon." Siegfried rubbed his eyes.

"By the way: Where's Caroline?" Tristan asked.

Once again Siegfried yawned. "Thursday – her bridge night. She wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Ah – and Tim's nanny?"

"Dear little brother, even nannies as devoted and well-paid as Nanny Smith don't work round the clock seven days a week," Siegfried replied, bending forward and looking down at his son who had closed his eyes at last. "It seems we're finally going to sleep," he whispered.

"Are you going to put him in his crib?"

"No, not immediately. Master Farnon has developed the rather bothersome habit of becoming very lively as soon as he's put in his bed. But you can hand him over to me when he becomes too heavy for you."

Tristan shook his head. "No, no – we're quite comfortable together." Leaning back in his chair he scrutinized his brother. "You know, you look like another candidate for bed. What have you done with yourself?"

"Spent my last night on the hard, cold floor of a barn up to my shoulder in a mare whose foal had gotten its legs in a twist. It took nearly three hours to get the legs sorted and the foal out."

"Why are you still doing night duty?" Tristan wondered aloud. "You're the senior partner, after all."

"Well, sometimes the old man has to take over!" Siegfried rummaged with both hands through his hair. "On Tuesday James was out almost all night because of a horse with colic. And yesterday Calum was actually doing night duty, but after he'd gone out to a calving I could hardly kick poor James out of bed again, could I. So I had the pleasure." Siegfried grinned tiredly. "The occasional hazards of being a country vet in private practise. Sometimes I think I should apply for a desk job at the ministry too."

"As much fun as it would be to let you loose on a few of the desk jockeys there, I'm afraid you'd become bored out of your skin in only a few days," Tristan laughed quietly.

"Well, under the circumstances I should probably retire – as my wife would very much wish me to do."

"What?" Tristan almost jumped up, but at the last moment he remembered Tim, now sleeping in his arms. "Caroline wants you to retire?"

"Well," Siegfried shrugged his shoulders, "she's inherited a rather nice package and so she'd like to do some travelling. My work isn't exactly suited to her life style or her wishes."

Tristan swallowed. He couldn't imagine his brother giving up the practise he'd worked so hard to build. Being a vet himself, he knew that Siegfried was exceptionally good at his work. He was especially with horses – and hadn't he always loved his work?

Now Siegfried was quietly laughing. "Little brother – don't look at me like that! I won't give up the practise even for Caroline. As much as I enjoy riding and golfing and perhaps a bit of travelling – I need this warm feeling of accomplishment you get when you're up to your shoulder in a cow's arse. It's probably good against the rheumatics one inevitably acquires while consistently having to show off one's naked chest to sheep on cold winter nights."

"I'm convinced the sheep are rather impressed with your chest!" Tristan felt very relieved by hearing that Siegfried would not give up his profession.

"I'm every sheep's dream!" Siegfried stated, rose up and took Tim out of Tristan's arm. "I think I can get him into bed now. You'll provide yourself with another drink and I'll be back in a minute."

While Siegfried went upstairs to the nursery Tristan got himself another scotch, looking around in the living room. It was an elegant room, furnished with immaculate taste, every piece suiting the others exactly. Nevertheless Tristan couldn't help longing for the cosy, sometimes messy living room of Skeldale with its books, knick-knacks and worn but comfortable chair and sofa in front of the fireplace. As often as this room had been the arena for the brothers' quarrels, it had also often been the haven where they read, played cards together or just chatted.

Siegfried was back. "Let's hope he sleeps through," he sighed, taking the glass Tristan offered him and sinking back down onto the sofa again. "I do love my son, but sometimes he's a bit tiring," he stated. "But what about you, Tris? Still happy among the paper shufflers?"

"Well, I'm going to do a bit more vetting in the future," Tristan announced. "You know I'll be in charge of the new programme for artificial insemination, so I'll get to see a cow now and then."

Siegfried laughed. "You'll even get your lily white hand in one now and then."

"Good against rheumatics?" Tristan grinned.

"Wrong entrance!" Siegfried commented dryly.

"You know, I really think this programme could result in real progress in stock breeding," Tristan said. "Just think of the possibilities of artificial insemination."

"I do, I do – but I also think of the possible drawbacks. In the long run there's a risk of the farmers only using a few bulls, which could cause inbred depression and even worse. What if one of these prize bulls should cause a slowly developing sickness? We might only know after he's already sired a hundred offspring."

"What's this, Siegfried?" Tristan lifted one eyebrow. "Since when did you become the conservative one? I always thought that was James' role."

"He isn't here, is he?" Siegfried grinned.

"What reminds me: I think the three of us should have a beer together soon. What do you think?" Tristan asked.

"That I'm to ask James about that tomorrow – if I get to see him, that is. At the moment we're so busy that sometimes we only meet each other running in and out of the surgery." He once again yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Little brother, it was splendid of you to come over, but you'll have to excuse your aging brother now. Caroline wants me to accompany her to the Cornews tomorrow evening and she expects me clean-shaved, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and up to my highly amusing best among her friends, which definitely won't be possible if I don't hop into my little bed now. With my offspring one never knows when he'll be up for another round of keeping his father on his toes, so one has to catch up on one's beauty sleep when there's a chance for it."

"Poor old brother!" Tristan emptied his glass and got up. "Only one thing before you retire and I forget about it again: You have Milleck's 'Fertility Treatment of Livestock' in your library. Could you perhaps lend it to me for a few days?"

"Of course." Siegfried was already at the door. "It's probably upstairs in my study – just come up with me and let's have a look at the shelves." Walking through the hall towards the stairs, he turned around, putting his fingers on his hips. "Just remember: Be quiet. We don't want to wake the little monster!"

Of all the rooms in the house, Tristan liked the study best of all. It was cosy with its walls of bookshelves, desk full of papers and two nice chairs standing in front of the fire place where a pile of veterinary magazines waited on a table to be read. There were photographs in the mantelpiece, not only of Tim and Caroline, but also of Tristan – as a small boy on the back of one of Siegfried's racing horses and another one with Tristan sitting in the garden at Skeldale – and the entire Herriot family too. Siegfried had also put a few of Jimmy Heriott's drawings – mostly animals – on the wall.

Tristan smiled at the drawings while Siegfried searched through his book shelves. Then Tristan turned – and what he saw made him frown. The door to the adjoining room was open, allowing Tristan a look into what obviously was his brother's bedroom. There was single bed with crumbled pyjamas and Siegfried's dressing gown hanging at the foot end of the bed. There was also a nightstand with a phone and, as always, some open books on it.

Siegfried was still able to read the expression on Tristan's face. "You know," he said, "I'm rather good at snoring. And Caroline hates being waked by the phone in the middle of the night and having me messing around in the bedroom on a quest for my trousers."

Although Siegfried tried to keep his tone casual, the fact that he was normally very private even towards Tristan, yet had bothered to explain his sleeping arrangements, had Tristan worrying once more about the state of his brother's marriage. He couldn't help wondering if Caroline would ever adjust to being the wife of a country vet. Apparently she wasn't too fond of her husband's chosen profession. Didn't she understand yet how much it meant to him?

* * *

The night at Siegfried's house had been something like a wake-up call for Tristan. During the following weeks he'd watched his brother attentively – and he hadn't liked what he'd seen. Siegfried had tried too hard to show himself as a perfectly happy husband and father, always talking about Caroline in the most charming way. But one day when Tristan was visiting Skeldale House he'd found his brother at his desk in the surgery, head in his hands, shoulders slumped, looking tired and beaten.

A few days later during one of his tours to the hill farms Tristan had seen Siegfried's car on a lonely spot high up on a mountain. Parking his MG next to the Rover, Tristan switched off the engine, hopped out and looked around. After a moment he discovered the solitary form of his brother, sitting on a rock and looking out over the land. He'd taken his hat down and the wind had ruffled his hair what had made him look boyish and vulnerable.

Tristan felt awkward approaching him. All his life he'd been used to Siegfried being the strong one, the one he came to for advice, guidance and sometimes even protection.

Now it suddenly felt as if he would have to protect Siegfried, but in the same time he was aware that his older brother certainly wouldn't want to talk about what was bothering him. For a few seconds Tristan even doubted whether it had been a good idea to stop, but then Siegfried turned as if he had sensed Tristan's presence.

"Dr. Livingstone, I presume?" Tristan tried to joke.

"Fancy meeting you here! Aren't you afraid about what an overdose of fresh air will do to your lungs?"

Sitting down next to Siegfried, Tristan replied: "It hasn't seemed to do yours much good either. You look as if you haven't slept in three days."

"That good?" Siegfried crossed his legs. "I actually feel as if I haven't seen my bed in a fortnight."

"Let me guess. Lambing?"

"Not entirely. James and Calum are doing most of that. But I've had my share of entertainment over the last few days too. On Monday I was having a night out with Granville Bennet."

"Uh oh! Your poor, old liver! Tell me, did you make it to bed under your own steam or did your wife have to carry you up the stairs?"

"I was on my own – Caroline was out gallivanting with her sisters," Siegfried replied. "But I do have to admit that I was tempted to sleep on the sofa because climbing the stairs looked like a monumental task."

"Yes, a night out with Granville can take it out of a man!" Tristan said with sympathy. "One of the chaps at the ministry suffered for three days after he'd met Granville - and trembled for weeks afterwards whenever anyone mentioned Granville's name. Did you at least get a proper chance to sleep it off?"

"Do I look like it?" Siegfried sighed. "I'd just gotten out of my trousers as Houston called. Padischah – you remember him from his racing days, don't you? – was suffering from a twist in his bowels."

"Good grief! Could you help him?"

"Hmm," Siegfried nodded.

"Surgery?"

"Yes! And I can tell you there's nothing like messing around in a horse's bowels on a queasy stomach. It makes the perfect remedy for a hang over. If you come through that without adding to your patient's trouble by puking the contents of your stomach into his, you can call yourself recovered indeed." Siegfried leaned back, stretching. "Afterwards, I actually felt like voluntarily taking over surgery for the next four weeks – you know, like cutting canaries' claws and neutering tomcats. Unfortunately my first patient on Tuesday was Ms Rattle's incredibly fat and aggressive cat who's developed an infection in her uterus bad enough for three cats. She wasn't in the best of moods and I wasn't at my quickest either, so I only managed to wrap her after she'd already driven her claws into my thigh. If she'd gotten me only one little bit higher I'd probably have become the first human patient neutered in our surgery."

"Ugh!" Even the thought of having a cat's claw there made Tristan shudder. "And what did you do with her uterus?"

"My dear boy, I'm tough, but not so tough I couldn't deal with Granville twice a week, so I decided to do the surgery myself – and you should have heard Calum cursing while holding the hooks! The boy's got a vocabulary to do a seaman proud."

"Fat cats aren't fun at all," Tristan said.

"A truer word was never spoken." Siegfried closed his eyes because of the sun and moaned. "What a week! On Wednesday night James, Calum and I were out – all on some lambing with me once again getting the best part. James was of course at Heston Grange in the big, warm barn his father-in-law had put his sheep in. Calum wasn't bad off either – he worked at Rattling's place, protected from the wind by the wood - and Rattling plying him with hot tea and scotch - while I had the misfortune to catch Pidget's call."

"Ugh – Pidget is the one up on Hernine Fell who never even bothers to get you hot water, isn't he?" Tristan was full of sympathy.

"Yes – and he's also the one who always manages to put his sheep gates in the dirtiest, wettest place he can find on his pastures. I sometimes wonder why he doesn't get them into a nice spot of moor – it would make lambing on his place even more adventurous. On the other hand I should probably just get myself a diving suit for next year." Siegfried yawned. "But at least Helen's a real darling. As I came back to Skeldale frozen stiff and teeth chattering she hadn't only made sure that there was hot water for a bath, she even put a few hot bricks in my bed. I only got to enjoy them for two hours, but the warmth was heaven and if I hadn't been so entirely drained, I'd probably have knelt down at her feet, singing her praise in the highest tones."

"Thank God for Helen!" Tristan said, but thought that getting his brother warmed up after a night out lambing should actually have been Caroline's job.

"Indeed. But last night she couldn't help me. James and Calum were away again, so it was my job to perform a Caesarean on one of Pimbridge's price heifers. You know how clumsy he is. Instead of helping me lift the calf out – and it was a real elephant – he stumbled, fell over the bucket of hot water, gave me a kick in the back and twisted his wrist. So not only did I have to get the bovine monster out of its mother and patch her up, I also had to tend to Pimbridge's arm. Of course, with his arm in a sling he didn't feel up to getting me another bucket of hot water, so I didn't even getting a proper wash. It was Thursday, so thinking that Caroline would be out playing bridge, I drove home. Only I'd forgotten that she'd invited the ladies over – and you should have seen their faces when I showed up covered in cow muck! I didn't smell like a bouquet of roses, so when I politely inquired if I could have something to eat, I received a rather sharp instruction to get myself in a condition bearable to the rest of mankind before romping through the clean kitchen. I was advised to leave my dirty clothes in the laundry room, but Caroline didn't think to get me some other clothes to change into, so I ended up trying to sneak up the stairs in just one sock and my knickers."

Tristan covered his face in his hands. "Don't tell me you met someone on your way through the hall!"

"I did indeed and I can tell you, Madame Smith-Rowers is faster on her legs than one would think. She almost jumped up to the chandelier when she saw me dashing up the stairs."

Tristan couldn't help laughing. "Considering how the Honourable Edmund Smith-Rowers might look in his knickers, one actually shouldn't begrudge his wife getting a glimpse of a man who's able to see his privates without putting a mirror on the floor."

"Tristan!" Siegfried shuddered. "I absolutely refuse to think of Smith-Rowers' privates!"

Tristan laughed again, pulled his package of Woodbines out of his jacket and lit one. He'd laughed, but that didn't mean he'd liked what he'd heard. As funny as Siegfried's story had sounded, Tristan was a vet himself. Although he'd never done a Caesarean alone, he'd twice assisted Siegfried with one and he remembered only too well what a draining job it was. With sheep, Caesareans were almost fun: You put the patient up on a straw bale, opened her side, had your assistant or the shepherd help you by lifting the uterus out, cut in, got the lamb out, stitched the uterus up, put it back, closed the sheep – done. Even Tristan, who hadn't much experience with surgery, could have done it in two hours. And Siegfried - a brilliant surgeon - probably made it through the entire affair including the needlework in one hour. Yet with cows, Caesareans were another kettle of fish. Cows generally lay in dirty, badly illuminated barns which meant the surgeon had to perform the task on his knees, bending over the patient. Even if he got a strong assistant, lifting the uterus up was out of the question with a cow. With the calf stuck inside it would have required at least two strong men – and there wasn't space for them. That meant that the surgeon had to cut open the cow. Siegfried, a former RAF pilot, used to name this part of the job "flying blind" because one could hardly see a thing when rummaging with one's scalpel deeply in the cow. Getting the calf out then wasn't much fun either. The little beasts usually seemed to weigh half a ton and had a tendency to hide their legs under their bodies. One usually had to turn them first before being able to get a good grip on them and lifting them out - which was, considering the weight of a calf, a really back-breaking task. Even then the surgeon wasn't finished – the stitching of the uterus would have been enough to keep two of the ladies from Darrowby's embroidery club busy for awhile, and the cut in the side of the cow required a lot of stitches too. Even with an experienced, quick surgeon there was no way to do this job in less than two hours. Add the preparations for everything and you could count on at least three hours spent in a draughty barn with naked arms on your knees, usually parked in a hefty spot of cow shit.

Tristan wouldn't have wanted to do that sort of job after a day in his office. Doing it after a day of vetting would probably have made him dead on his feet afterwards. And as much stamina as Siegfried had, Tristan was sure that he had certainly been dog tired when he'd finally come home. And he was certain that when James came home after such a job, Helen didn't mind if he was dirty and smelly – she would first have him sit down on a chair, ply him with tea, feed him hot soup – somehow Helen always seemed to manage to have a pot with one of her wonderful soups on the stove – and give him time to recover while she prepared a hot bath for him. Helen Herriot knew how utterly exhausting her husband's work was at times – she'd accompanied him on his rounds often enough and had even assisted him a few times with big operations. Yet Caroline didn't seem to have an idea – and though Tristan didn't know for sure he would have bet his butt that his sister-in-law had rarely been inside a cow barn. She would probably faint if asked to help with neutering a cat. To put it briefly and bluntly, as a country vet's wife Caroline Farnon nee Fisher was definitely out of her element.

Tristan, however, knew better than to express this opinion to his brother. He knew that it would Siegfried immediately go into his "Everything's well and I'm a happy husband" mode, forestalling any further talk – and Tristan couldn't help feeling that Siegfried urgently needed to talk. So Tristan simply commented, "These are the occasional hazards of being a country vet – as a wise man once said."

Siegfried – not even nagging Tristan about his smoking, which clearly showed that he was occupied by his own troubles, gave a lopsided grin back. "Well, at least the question as to whether a vet can be a gentleman is finally answered. Right now Ms Smith-Rowers is probably telling all her friends about this evening."

"As far as I know, her best friend is the General's wife – you know, the one who's a big head at the racing club." Tristan grinned. "Since the day her husband invited you to the races and you met Stewie Brannon there, I think her opinion about you is set in stone."

"Ugh!" Siegfried made a face. "Don't remind me of that! James still grins whenever I need to clean my windshield, remembering how I tried to do it with a dead chicken."

"You were tight as an owl that day," Tristan chuckled. "And I remember how you came home. You woke the entire neighbourhood by loudly singing Wagner – and you only do that when you're totally blotto."

"Is it possible that you enjoy reminding me of one of more embarrassing moments?" Siegfried lifted one eyebrow.

"Well," Tristan grinned back, "considering that you've become an epitome of soberness since you got married ..."

"Hmm – I'm not sure Caroline would agree with that. When she came home Monday night, she opened the door of my room, paled and told me she'd been in pubs that smelled of less alcohol."

"I'm surprised that she knows pubs at all," Tristan snorted.

"My bad influence probably," Siegfried replied briefly. "Or perhaps Richard Edmundson once gave her a tour of the local common watering holes. One never knows. But after my act yesterday, Caroline became probably the second woman who's taste in men Edmundson doesn't understand. I'm sure he's heard about everything by now – and now he wonders how Caroline could have married me. He never understood why Helen preferred James over him - and now Caroline ..."

"Edmundson was after Caroline too?" Tristan had always thought himself well informed, but this was one story he'd never heard. Shaking his head, he added: "I think Calum and I should watch out for our girls – if I'm ever to get another one after Calum nicked Deidre away from me, that is. Edmundson seems to have set his cap for the vets' girlfriends."

Siegfried shook his head and grinned. "The other way around, little brother. Vets – like James and I – always seem to be stealing the girls with whom Edmundson is in love. He knew Helen and Caroline before they met us.

Tristan put his cigarette out. "Just imagine how Edmundson's ears would look on a daughter of his!"

"Rather not!" Siegfried pulled his watch out of his vest, had a look at it and at his left wrist where he had, as usual, written down the list of the day's visits. "I should be off. There's a litter of Afghans in Tawnby I'm to have a look at."

"Tawnby – isn't that on the other side of the Pennines in old O'Brian's district?" Tristan wondered. "He certainly won't like you coming into his hunting grounds."

"It can't be helped, but I don't intend to mess around with his patients. I only have to see if one of these puppies could make a dignified successor of our late Tricky Woo."

"Tricky Woo's dead? Good grief – how's Mrs Pumphrey taking it?" Tristan was really sad that the friendly Pekinese had gone.

"Naturally she's deep in mourning, but James and I managed to convince her that Tricky will become a brain scientist and win a Nobel Prize in his next incarnation. And we persuaded her to get another dog – hence my visit to Tawnby."

"And why an Afghan?" wondered Tristan.

"She couldn't bear to have another Pekinese around, she said. And she's always liked Afghans. Tricky had an Afghan friend once, you know." Siegfried got up and straightened his vest. "I wonder how an overfed Afghan will look."

"I'm sure Uncle Herriot and Uncle Farnon will keep the Afghan's health up too – and I do hope that he shows his gratitude to his uncles as generously as Tricky always did." Tristan had gotten up to and was walking back to the cars next to his brother. Upon arriving there he asked: "By the way: How's my favourite nephew doing? Still teething?"

Siegfried had already opened the door of his vehicle and put one foot in. Now he turned with a happy smile. "Not at the moment, thank you very much. The tooth is out and he loves using it on the hand that feeds him." He cleared his throat. "Brother of mine -" He looked down at the toes of his brown shoes.

"Yes?"

"Thanks for stopping." He gave Tristan a pat on the upper arm, jumped into his car and disappeared with the engine roaring.

* * *

When later thinking about that morning, Tristan was sure that it had added to his decision to quit his job at the ministry and come back to Skeldale. Besides feeling rather bored with his position as "bull with the bowler hat," as the farmers had named him for his job in inseminating their cows, Tristan had gotten the odd and rather new feeling that Siegfried really needed him. The practise had developed to a point where three vets, including the hard-working Siegfried, could hardly cope with the amount of work anymore. There was hardly a night in the week when the vets weren't called out at least twice; there were mornings with a packed waiting room and the phone ringing so often that Helen had started to take up residence next to it on a chair. And there was the already long and still growing list of routine checkups and vaccinations; there was the boring but well-paid TBC testing with its tedious paperwork, and of course the administration of their entire practise which kept Siegfried and Helen busy at least an entire day each week.

Nevertheless, Tristan knew that his brother had taken him up as a junior partner not only because he was in dire need of a fourth man, but because of their changed relationship. It seemed that Siegfried had finally realized that his "little brother" had grown up and didn't need to lean on him anymore, but was now willing and able to give him a helping hand.

But "Siegfried being Siegfried," as James often used to say with a little sigh, the newly developed respect and friendship the older sibling now had for the younger neither kept him from nagging nor from throwing the occasional tantrum. The various "messes" James and Calum used to produce in Skeldale's living room could still get Siegfried climbing the walls quicker than Tristan was able to kick an empty beer bottle under the sofa. And dealing with the practise's paperwork and the clients' tardiness in paying their bills made Siegfried explode at least once a month and rage through the premise like a bull with a toothache.

Lately, however, Tristan didn't mind his brother's temper and quirks so much. Of course he was a Farnon too, and sometimes Siegfried drove him mad enough to yell back at him, but since Siegfried had stopped calling Tristan "lazy, useless and good for nothing," their arguments didn't have the same impact on Tristan as in former times.

It certainly helped that Tristan wasn't dependent on Siegfried anymore. Of course Siegfried was still the senior partner and one never knew if he'd take the "rank has its privilege" stance – it was, after all, Siegfried from whom Tristan received his money – but now it was pay that Tristan earned through hard work.

Still, Tristan wasn't entirely happy back at Skeldale because he was still concerned about Siegfried's marriage. Seeing him on a daily basis made it even more clear to Tristan that something was basically wrong in his brother's home. Although Siegfried never said a word, the signs were evident.

There were, for example, the room arrangements at Skeldale. Calum had taken over what once had been James' bedsitter, while the room Tristan had once lived in had first become the nursery for the Herriot children and, after the Herriots had moved in their own house, the guest room. That left Siegfried's room and the two chambers in the attic where the Herriots had lived for Tristan to choose for his own – or so he'd thought when he'd moved in. Not being keen on squirreling away in the attic – the phone line still didn't reach up there – he'd actually wanted to move in Siegfried's room where there was a phone on the nightstand. Saying as much resulted in a flat refusal from Siegfried. Although James, Calum and Tristan had offered to let Siegfried out of night duty – he was the oldest member of the firm after all and as a result of the Brucellosis he'd suffered through, he'd become prone to developing problems with his lungs whenever he caught a cold – Siegfried insisted on remaining prepared to take over. Therefore, so he argued, he needed to keep his bedroom at Skeldale. "Or do you expect me to break my back sleeping on the sofa in the sitting room whenever I need to be here?"

That was one thing. Another was that after Tristan had finally moved in the attic, Siegfried had finally hired a housekeeper for Skeldale again – after Siegfried gave Calum and Tristan a long speech about their inability to keep the house in order and his dissatisfaction with seeing it changed into a "pig sty." He'd even threatened to take the money for a housekeeper out of their earnings – which had gotten Calum a bit shaken because he was supporting his sick, widowed mother. Tristan had been able to comfort Calum – he was all too familiar with his brother's diatribes and also with his way of forgetting them the moment he left the room.

The new housekeeper, Ms Alton, an older widow who lived only a few steps away from Skeldale, wasn't only good in organizing the rather chaotic household, but also loved to cook - and did it well. She was obviously convinced that vets needed to be fed at least five times a day, and as she was the sister of three farmers, rationing wasn't a problem. Luxurious breakfasts were followed by what she called "a little snack" around 10 o'clock, consisting of a still warm pie, freshly baked bread or some other delicacies. As Ms Alton was always worrying about "her boys" breaking down from starvation while on their rounds, the vets who went out always received a hamper with sandwiches, cake and a thermos of hot tea for their trips. For Siegfried – he of course had taken her by storm and therefore got special treatment – she even always packed a bottle of wine and the finest of glasses because "one can't expect a gentleman like Mr Farnon to drink his wine out of a shabby glass."

At one o'clock lunch was served, at four o'clock Ms Alton called for tea and at seven she always served a dinner in praise of which Siegfried used to say that it would be fit for a peer's table. Even Calum, who according to Siegfried had a bottomless pit for a stomach, gained weight under Ms Alton's care while Tristan felt how his collars became tighter and had farmers tell him, "By God, man, that must be a good meadow you're grazing on!"

The only one who didn't thrive was Siegfried. He had always been the one who had to fight to keep his weight – and with his fondness for fine cuisine and good wines he hadn't been too successful in that. The slight rotundity around the middle was one of his weakest spots – and even Tristan, who'd normally enjoyed teasing his older sibling, shied away from mentioning Siegfried's increased girth because the resulting outburst would have been too much to bear. But now Siegfried had developed what he called "a sensitive stomach," while Tristan rather thought of it as a severe case of gastritis. Even enjoying Mrs. Alton's meals three days a week at Skeldale, Siegfried didn't gain weight anymore.

The fact that Siegfried was having so many meals at Skeldale made Tristan wonder what was going on in his home. Of course, no one would have expected the spoiled society princess Siegfried had married to cook herself – she'd grown up being waited on hand and foot and probably didn't even know how to boil an egg. But couldn't she at least get her housekeeper to serve her husband a proper breakfast? Nearly ever other morning Siegfried burst into the living room at Skeldale asking, "Any coffee left?"

In the first few weeks after Tristan had come back, Siegfried often stood behind him, stealing food from his plate while pretending to get the day's planning worked out with his younger colleagues. Tris had finally asked Ms Alton to set a place for his brother at the table. This resulted in Siegfried's joining them at breakfast at least three or four times a week.

Siegfried often had his lunch at Skeldale, saying it would be "impractical" for him to drive home for "just half an hour." The fact that he normally took a nap on the sofa after lunch for more than an hour at lunchtime had Tristan asking himself if Siegfried wouldn't have been more comfortable at his own home.

Siegfried didn't seem to think so. Just the opposite. Four weeks after Tristan's return, at Friday afternoon tea – usually the only occasion when all four vets sat around the table – Siegfried announced that he'd like to have the work schedule changed again. "I want out of evening surgery whenever it's possible. You know, those hours are Timmy's playtime, just before his dinner and his bath. I want to be with him as often as possible."

Tristan saw how James swallowed – he was probably thinking of how much he'd have liked to spend more time with his children too – but being generous to a fault, he said, "Of course, Siegfried. The kids are growing so quickly. It would be a pity for you to miss out on this phase of Tim's life."

"Thank you, James, but the same goes for your children, so I'd like to suggest that both of us change hours. Your children are a bit older than Tim, so they go to bed later in the evening. If you'd kindly take over my evening surgery, I'd do your night duty," Siegfried suggested. "That would give both of us a chance to spend some quality time with our offspring."

"But Siegfried, what about your lungs?" Tristan shook his head. "If you go down with pneumonia again next winter it won't help us much."

Siegfried looked at Tristan over the rim of his spectacles. "I'm not an ailing old man, little brother!" he answered testily. "And in contrast to some other members of this practise, I've always seen night duty as a fascinating challenge."

"In matters of cursing and swearing?" Tristan hadn't been able to resist the bait.

"I neither curse nor swear!" Siegfried promptly shouted back. Calum choked on his tea and James helpfully slapped his back – the young Scotsman was obviously remembering how his boss had only two hours before rampaged through the surgery, announcing that he was going to geld the "miserable old bugger" Primston using "just two bloody bricks!" Siegfried proceeded to explain that his was a calm temperament, hence he didn't need to resort to cursing and swearing like – one sharp look at Tristan – some "less balanced people."

* * *

From that day on, Siegfried usually came back from his afternoon rounds around half past five, had tea at Skeldale and then disappeared home. On at least two days a week he came back around eight o'clock, making himself comfortable on the sofa with a book and a glass of wine until the first call came. And although Tristan still heard him sometimes cursing when the phone got him out of bed at three o'clock in the morning, Siegfried really seemed to like night duty. He even went so far as to offer Tristan to take over when he heard him discuss a change in technique with Calum.

Or was Siegfried just avoiding being at home? Helen Herriot thought so. Tristan took his role as Rosie Herriot's godfather seriously and therefore visited the Herriots at least once a week. One night as he sat in Helen's kitchen, happily full after one of her famous dinners and contently sipping a beer, the subject once came again up. Actually it was James, lingering in his favourite chair, who said, "Poor, old Siegfried – with his luck he'll get the Sittlows or Bennet calling him out tonight. Actually I've a bit of a bad conscience letting him have so many night duties in this dreadful weather."

Helen who was mending socks, shook her head. "I actually believe he prefers dealing with the Sittlows to the string of social obligations Caroline makes him attend. Parties here, dinners there, nights out for theatre and meeting her posh friends, entertaining twice a week ..." She put her sock down, took a sip from her glass and looked at the men. "There's no doubt that Siegfried looks very distinguished and handsome in a dinner jacket, but I'll bet he wouldn't mind just putting his feet up now and then instead of squeezing them into patent leather slippers three times a week. Sometimes I think the only time he gets for recuperation and rest is when he's on night duty at Skeldale!"

Tristan sighed. "Is it possible Ms Herriot that you're not exactly an admirer of the ice queen my brother chose to marry?"

Helen took the sock up again. "It's not my place to criticize Siegfried's choice for a wife," she said a bit testily.

Tristan rolled his eyes. "I can't help wondering how Siegfried ever managed to come close enough to Caroline to sire a child – without getting chilblains on his privates, that is!"

"Tristan!" Helen scolded, but laughed in the same time, spoiling the effect.

Tristan sighed. "Why couldn't he have married Marjorie Edgerton? She was perfect! You know," he bent towards Helen, "I sometimes still wonder what he did to her to make her run away. Knowing him," he sighed again, "he probably couldn't keep his hand off other women."

"That certainly wasn't the reason!" Helen replied firmly. "You know, Tris, your brother may have his shortcomings, but I don't think he'd cheat. There were other reasons for the fallout between him and Marjorie."

"He told you?" Tristan's curiosity was piqued. "What was the reason? Did she cheat on him?"

Helen shook her head. "I think she was rather fond of him, too. It was just ..." she hesitated.

"Spill the beans, Helen!" Tristan demanded.

And now even James looked expectantly at her. "I actually wondered too," he said.

"I'm so glad the two of you aren't curious!" Helen rolled her eyes.

"It's unfair that Siegfried always tells you, but never me!" Tristan protested. "I'm his brother, after all."

"And you're also the one who can never keep his gob shut!" James chuckled.

"I can!" Tristan felt offended. "I never told Siegfried about how you destroyed the Golf Club's hut by crashing the Austin!"

"Me?" James exclaimed. "I had my arm in a sling, if I may remind you! It was you who was driving the Austin!"

"But the Austin was yours – and so it was your responsibility to look after it!" Tristan argued.

James shook his head and looked at his wife. "It obviously runs in the family!" he stated. "Those Farnons are masters of twisting facts to suit them!"

"If you can't agree who was responsible, I could perhaps ask Siegfried what he thinks," Helen suggested.

"Or you could finally tell us why his thing with Marjorie didn't work out!" Tristan had always been rather insistent.

"Oh, well – let's say it: She refused him in a moment when he wasn't expecting it," Helen answered. "It must have hurt him a lot."

Tristan hadn't really listened to her last line anymore. He stared at her, wide-eyed. "Marjorie refused him? I mean like in not wanting to have a roll in the hay with him?"

"Tristan!" This time Helen really sounded angry.

"James, did you hear that? There's a woman walking on this earth who's able to refuse my brother's advances! Oh joyous day! I never hoped I'd hear something like that!" Tristan exclaimed.

"Actually I don't think she's the only one," James grinned. "Ms Smith-Rowers is, as far as I've heard, not exactly an admirer of Siegfried either."

"James! I talked about women he made advances too!" Tristan shook his head. "I'm rather sure that if Siegfried found himself on a desert island with only Ms Smith-Rowers for company he wouldn't make advances to her! Siegfried's at least got a bit of taste!"

"Only it failed him when he married Caroline!" James stated with a moan.

"How true!" Tristan emptied his glass and showed it to Helen. "Do you think you could get the air out of that? An empty glass is a rather sad sight."

Helen got up and fetched another bottle of beer out of the fridge. Putting it in front of Tristan she said, "I actually don't know what you're complaining about. It could have been worse. Siegfried could have married Diana Brompton!"

"Ugh!" James twitched.

Tristan, opened the beer, shuddering. "That would have been a reason for me to change my name and run off to apply for a job in Papua, New Guinea!"

"I would have come with you!" James promptly stated. "However," he took the half empty bottle out of Tristan's hand and poured the rest into his glass, "I don't think Caroline is as cool around Siegfried as she is around us. Perhaps she still finds it difficult to fit into our family."

Tristan leaned back and crossed his long legs. "In any case, she doesn't like his work. Did you know that she wants him to give up the practise?"

Now he'd gotten the Herriot's attention. James sat straight up, furrowing his brow. "She can't want that! Doesn't she get how much it means to Siegfried and how hard he worked to get this far? He's a damn good vet! And he's only as great as he is because he loves what he's doing!"

Helen was chewing on her bottom lip, looking rather thoughtful. "How did you learn about that, Tris?" she finally asked.

"Siegfried told me," Tristan answered Helen's question before he turned to James. "Don't worry – we won't lose him. He's told me that he's already put his foot down on this point."

For a while the trio was quiet, and then Helen sighed. "Poor, old Siegfried indeed! He's searched so long for the right woman ..."

Tristan laughed. "Well, at least one can't deny that he enjoyed the searching."

"But now he's unhappy," James added quietly.

"That's probably why he hangs around at Skeldale all the time," Tristan said. "But we can't help him, can we?"

Helen took another sock out of her basket and looked sceptically at it. "That's beyond mending, I'm afraid – it's more hole than sock." She put back the sock in question and took another one. "I actually believe we could help Caroline and Siegfried," she said, pulling the sock over her hand with her forefinger poking through the hole. "Really, Jim – I don't know what you're always doing with your socks! I can't knit or mend them as quickly as you keep wearing them down!"

"What do you mean, we could help Siegfried and Caroline?" Tristan got back to the subject.

Helen smiled her warm-hearted, charming smile. "You know, neither of us has made much of an effort in making Caroline feel welcomed and involved in our circle."

"There wasn't much of a chance to doing that!" James defended himself. "It all happened so quickly: One day the lady waltzed in, the next day Siegfried was already whistling the wedding march - and before we know what had happened, we were walking him down the aisle."

"But Caroline does try sometimes," Helen reminded the men. "And I don't think it's very nice of you to make excuses when she invites you over to their house!"

"She's got very poor timing!" Tristan protested. "Last time she wanted to have me over for dinner, Deidre had just arrived. I could hardly ask Calum to take over night duty when his girlfriend had just come to town!"

"And when she invited us last time, it was the night before the church concert," James reminded his wife. "If Caroline were a bit more interested in the ordinary people in Darrowby, she would have known you had to go to last choir rehearsal night."

"James! You really can't expect a woman like Caroline to be aware of the Darrowby church choir!" Helen shook her head.

"And why not?" James asked heatedly. "What makes her so special? She's a country vet's wife and so are you! And these ordinary people she obviously doesn't want to become involved with are the ones who enable her husband to make a living! They're paying for the bread she eats and the wine she drinks!"

"That's not true, James – and you know it. Caroline's got money of her own," Helen said. "Besides I believe we owe it to Siegfried to make a bit of an effort with Caroline. Tristan, he's your brother. James, he's our friend. I intend to invite Caroline to a nice picnic next weekend -" she looked strictly at James and Tristan, "- and I expect both of you to attend and to be at your very best towards Caroline!"

Neither James nor Tristan had been too keen on spending a Saturday afternoon picnicking, but they also knew that Helen would have made them pay hell if they had made excuses again. And Siegfried had been delighted with the invitation.

Saturday came with the entire Herriot clan and Tristan already sitting at the bench where they were to meet with the Farnons, who were yet to arrive. Siegfried finally appeared half an hour later, Tim proudly riding on his shoulders. Although he tried to keep his tone casual, he couldn't hide that he was upset. He apologized for Caroline's absence: "Her sister Cassandra called just as were to go. She's pregnant and her husband is away, so she needed Caroline to come over to keep her company. She's terribly sorry – she'd have loved to spend some time with you, but you know how close she is to her sisters."

* * *

Obviously her sisters weren't the only people Caroline was close to. Just two weeks after the picnic Tristan was in Leeds to meet with a couple of his old friends at the races. Among them was Ronny Sawyers, who'd just taken over his father's prosperous vet practise and wanted to celebrate the occasion by inviting his friends to dinner in the _Excelsior_, Leeds' poshest hotel.

Passing through the hall with his friends, Tristan got a glimpse of the bar where people were dancing. One couple in particular caught his eyes, making him stop and stare. The tall, dark-haired man in a dark suit smiled fondly down at the elegant brunette in his arms, then bent down and whispered something in her ear. As she threw her head back in laughter, Tristan jumped behind a pillar, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what he'd seen. Another look around the pillar confirmed it. The couple appeared very familiar with each other: The woman, now tenderly playing with the hair at the back of Richard Edmundson's neck, was no one other than his sister-in-law.

"Tristan, are you coming?" one of the girls of his party called.

"Yes, just a moment ..." Tristan stammered. "I – I mean, I've forgotten – I have to make a phone call before I join you. Why don't you go into the restaurant? I'll be back as soon as I've made my call."

"Of course – we'll wait!" The girl, a very pretty blonde, smiled at him. "But don't be too long, will you?"

While his friends went into the restaurant at the end of the hall, Tristan leaned against the pillar, breathing deeply. Hadn't Siegfried mentioned something about being appointed as the vet on the riding tournament in Brawton? Or was that next weekend? Tristan wasn't sure. Slowly sneaking around the pillar he risked another look into the bar, this time not searching for Caroline, but for the party she'd come with. He actually expected to see the familiar form of his brother, dancing with another woman or charming some lady at one of the round tables at the side.

Try as he might, he couldn't find Siegfried. Perhaps he was sitting on the side of the room, not visible to Tristan unless he walked into the bar area. For a few seconds he considered doing just that, but if Caroline was there on her own, it would be extremely embarrassing to run into her.

Slowly walking over to the restaurant, Tristan found his friends already seated at a table, studying the menu. Sitting down, he suddenly had an idea.

"Ronny," he smiled at his old friend from college days, "you remember my brother, don't you?"

"Oh, of course! How could I forget him?" Ronny laughed and turned towards the rest of the table. "Meeting Trissi's older brother is an experience to tell one's grandchildren about! The chap –Siegfried's his name – is a really amazing man."

"Do tell!" the blonde girl demanded.

"Well, Trissi lived at the third floor of a little hotel in those days. As I came in to see him one day, I could already hear Trissi had gotten a visitor who was really reading him the riot act. There was something about Triss being idle, lazy, messy, undisciplined and – what was it, Tristan?"

Tristan sighed. "Useless - and a parasite!"

"Hah –sounds like your brother was being a real charmer!" the blonde sympathized with Tristan by patting his arm.

"That's what got me so totally gobsmacked!" Ronny laughed. "Triss' landlady – a very pretty young woman – led me up the stairs to his room. And all the time we were climbing up there – remember, we're talking about the third floor – we heard Tris' brother's blaring away at the top of his lungs. I was expecting to find Tristan's dead body up there. Yet in the moment the landlady and I entered the room, Siegfried –with a red face and blazing blue eyes – turned around, saw the landlady and switched from a raging bull to the perfect, charming gentleman in a heartbeat."

"That's my dear brother all over," Tristan said dryly.

"But why was he so mad at you?" the blonde wanted to know.

"Hmm – I existed. At this time it was often enough reason for Siegfried to explode."

"And now you're working with him?" The blonde looked as if she couldn't believe it.

"Yes, I am – and actually I enjoy it. Since I've gotten my qualification, we get along rather well. And, in his defence, I must say I was a rather lazy student."

"You were the laziest sod which ever graced the Edinburgh Veterinary College with his presence!" Ronny said. "It's said that Tristan's professors believe in miracles since he made it through the exams!"

Tristan grinned although he still felt rather tense. "Would you do me a favour, Ronny? Could you just sneak over at the bar and have a good look round there? I'd like to know if my brother is on the premises."

Ronny stood up. "Of course. But what am I to say if he recognizes me?"

Tristan chuckled. "No way. Siegfried's got a memory like a sieve. Every time I come back from holidays I have to introduce myself to him!"

Ronny did his job well. He not only made two rounds through the bar, but even an excursion to the "gents." Coming back to the restaurant he told Tristan, "You can relax. Your hot-tempered brother isn't there."

Only this message hadn't made Tristan relax; it spoiled his appetite and he left as quickly as possible. He wasn't in the mood for company anymore. He felt as if he'd been run over by a steam roller. He needed to think and that was what he did now, driving slowly back to Darrowby over the lonely streets.

He didn't like Caroline. Nevertheless, he didn't want to believe that she was cheating on his brother. Certainly there was a perfect, entirely harmless explanation for her being out with Richard Edmundson. Perhaps Caroline had actually planned to go dancing with Siegfried and Edmundson, and then Siegfried had been called out again. It did happen, didn't it? And in such a case Siegfried certainly wouldn't want to spoil his wife's fun, but would tell her to go with Edmundson.

Yes, that was it. Siegfried had been called away, but of course he had known where and with whom his wife was. And by now Edmundson was probably already delivering Caroline back to the bosom of her loving husband. She would tell Siegfried how much fun she'd had and he would laugh. He'd never been one for being jealous, but had always been rather relaxed when it came to other men around his women.

On the other hand – with Marjorie he'd definitely suffered from jealous. Ever since he'd heard about her engagement he'd been devastated. Of course, he hadn't talked to Tristan about it. And he would undoubtedly have preferred to swallow his tongue than confess to his younger brother that he'd been rejected by the woman he loved. But rejected and dejected he'd been, for days trudging through Skeldale as if he'd received a punch in the stomach. And then, the night when Marjorie had finally called again, Siegfried had been as fidgety as a pea on a hot stove and obviously unable to sleep. When Tristan came back rather late from his usual beer at the Drover's he'd found his brother cleaning the drug shelves in the surgery, which was a job Siegfried normally hated and only did voluntarily if he really didn't know what to do with himself. The next day, when he went out for tea with Marjorie, he'd looked as though he were awaiting a death sentence – but he had returned two hours later singing and whistling, almost dancing through the house and bursting with energy.

Considering how much Marjorie's engagement to another man had devastated Siegfried, Tristan actually didn't even want to think about what he might do when he discovered that Caroline was cheating on him. Siegfried was a very strong man – as no one knew better than his younger sibling –, but he was also very vulnerable when it came to people close to him. As much as he'd enjoyed his several flirtations and affairs, Tristan knew that Siegfried took his marriage vows seriously. When he'd promised Caroline to love her faithfully "until death do us part," he had meant it.

And there was Timmy to think about – for him, Siegfried would fight for his marriage with his last breath.

Sunday morning came – and Tristan, feeling not at his best after tossing in his bed all night, decided to sort the matter out. Optimist that he was, he had by now almost convinced himself that Siegfried knew about Caroline's night out with Edmundson. But there was still a little, nagging doubt – and one that was easily gotten rid off: He only would have to drive over to Siegfried's place and see how things were there.

The scenery awaited him there was idyllic: Siegfried was playing with Tim and the dogs in the garden while Caroline – elegant as always – was lying on a deck chair, leafing through a fashion magazine.

Tristan joined his brother in playing with Tim and while they were rolling in the grass, Siegfried talked about the tournament and the great horses he'd seen there. Tristan, sitting on the meadow while Tim chased the dogs, used that as his chance. Although he rather dreaded doing so, he asked Caroline how she'd liked the horse show.

"Oh, I wasn't there," she replied. "I wanted to accompany Siegfried, but my aunt is still sick and I needed to look after her."

Tristan felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. Caroline had lied – and why would she have done so if her afternoon with Edmundson had been harmless fun with an old friend?

"What did you do with your Saturday, little brother?" Siegfried inquired.

Sending a fake smile towards Caroline, Tristan answered, "I met a few friends at the races in Leeds. You remember Ronny Sawyers, don't you, Siegfried?"

"Actually I don't." Siegfried caught Tim, who was trying to eat grass. He shoved a biscuit into Tim's mouth and smiled. "Here, try that. It's definitely better than grass."

Tristan didn't allow himself to be distracted. Watching Caroline out of the corner of his eye, he said, "Never mind, Siegfried – you never remember people. In any case Ronny's just inherited his father's practise and he invited us to the _Excelsior_ to celebrate_. _Rather nice party, if you ask me – good kitchen, bearable beer and a nice bar."

Yes, Caroline had definitely flinched as he'd mentioned the hotel and the bar. And now she obviously wanted to change the subject, pulling Timothy on her lap, kissing his head and smiling tensely at Tristan. "What do you say about your nephew? He's now learned to walk!"

"Oh, has he?" Tristan offered Tim his hand. "Let's see, Tim!" And as the little one started to march, he praised him. "Great lad! In only a few weeks you'll be running around ..."

"... with poor, old me chasing him all the time!" Siegfried moaned.

"It will be good exercise for you, darling!" Caroline had risen up and was standing next to Siegfried, patting his non-existent belly. "I'd hate having a husband with a pot belly!"

* * *

For the next two weeks Tristan found it difficult to concentrate on his work. He couldn't get Caroline's betrayal out of his mind and he didn't know what to do about it. One the one hand he hated the thought that his brother's trust had been abused that way, but on the other hand, he could hardly tell Siegfried, could he?

Then the situation became even worse. At four o'clock in the morning on Wednesday, the phone awoke Tristan from his sleep. Siegfried was officially on night duty, but Tristan had heard him leave an hour before, so he took the call. It was O'Malley, the tenant of Edmundson's home farm – his bull had broken a horn and was bleeding badly.

Tristan drove over to the farm, which was in the valley close to Edmundson's estate. Around half past five he was ready with the bull and was just driving along the back of the estate when he saw Caroline's blue Jaguar come out the back gate and drive quickly away.

Shocked and furious, Tristan waited a moment before he, too, drove down the long road just in time to see Caroline turn to the left at the crossroad, obviously on her way home. Stopping again, Tristan watched how the Jaguar made its way down into the woods. Then he parked his car at the meadow besides the street, got out and lit a cigarette. Leaning on his car, he started to over think the situation.

Caroline dancing with Edmundson and lying it about had been bad, but it hadn't been ultimate proof that she was having an affair with the chap. However, there was the matter of her sneaking out of his back yard. If she had for some reason been at Edmundson's for a very early but harmless breakfast she certainly wouldn't have used the back entrance.

So she was involved with Richard "Big Ears" Edmundson – and besides making Tristan shudder at her odd taste, where did this leave him? He could hardly waltz into the room during breakfast at Skeldale announcing, "I've stopped O'Malley's bull from bleeding and given him a tetanus injection - and by the way, Siegfried, your wife is sleeping with Edmundson."

And even if he could manage to get Siegfried alone, how did one tell one's brother that his wife was cheating at him? It was devastating enough for a husband without going through the additional humiliation of knowing that his younger brother knew too.

Talking to Siegfried certainly wasn't a good idea. However, not talking at all wasn't possible either. Caroline had definitely gone too far. Which left only one option: He would have to talk to her. The thought of it made Tristan sigh, but bravely he climbed in his car and turned the ignition.

Ten minutes later his car rolled up the driveway of Siegfried's home. Switching the engine off, Tristan slowly climbed out, feeling like an old man.

Despite the early hour, the housekeeper opening the door, immaculately dressed as always, but rather surprised to see her employer's brother at this time of the day. "Mr Farnon! I'm afraid your brother isn't home." Her face showed clearly that she wasn't fond of receiving odd-smelling vets in the morning.

"I know," Tristan answered, and stepped over the threshold. Standing in the hall he announced: "I'd like to have a word with your mistress. Is she in?"

"Oh yes, but I'm afraid she's not down yet. Please, do come in and make yourself comfortable while I look for Madame."

She let Tristan into the little salon Caroline used to receive visitors and offered him a chair before she disappeared. Tristan looked around in the room. It showed perfect taste and the colour scheme – soft green, dark pink and crème – was very pretty. Nevertheless Tristan would have preferred to sit in Helen Herriot's kitchen – not only because he didn't look forward to the talk he was to have, but also because there seemed to be no place in this house other than Siegfried's study which looked really inviting to Tristan.

He was just lighting his second cigarette as Caroline entered, this time in a powder blue frock which suit her figure to perfection. She looked as if she'd just stepped out of one of the fashion magazines she was so fond of. She came towards Tristan with outstretched hands. "Tristan – what a surprise! Only Siegfried isn't here. He's on night duty – don't you know that?"

"Well ..." Tristan was searching for words.

"Tristan! You're blushing!" Caroline laughed. "You don't know where Siegfried is? Must I start to worry about my husband straying?"

For a moment Tristan could only stare at her. Had her statement been brazenness or awkwardness? Whatever it had been – he shook his head and said coldly: "I don't think Siegfried would ever stray. However, I'm not so sure about other members of the family."

Caroline crossed her arms over her breasts, her blue eyes looking coldly at Tristan. "Would you care to explain what you mean by that?"

Tristan flipped his cigarette stub into the fireplace. "Let's not beat around the bush, Caroline," he said firmly. "While Siegfried believed you looking after your poor, old sick auntie I saw you in Leeds with Richard Edmundson. And I just watched how you were sneaking out of Edmundson's backyard."

"You're spying on me?" Caroline's voice was icy and her eyes blazed with fury.

"Certainly not. I'd definitely prefer not to know about your unfaithfulness, but unfortunately you're not very discrete about it," Tristan replied.

Caroline had started to wander through the room. Standing at the French window with her back to Tristan, she said: "I'm afraid I don't know how my dealings with an old friend could be in any way your business."

"You're right, Caroline," Tristan agreed with her. "Your dealings with Mr Edmundson are absolutely no business of mine. However, your dealings with my brother are. Despite all the differences Siegfried and I have had, I do care for him, so I certainly won't stand by silently watching while you are making a fool out of him."

Caroline had turned around. Her face was pale and her hands were trembling. "What do you intend to do?" There wasn't any arrogance left in her voice anymore, only fear. "Are you going to tell Siegfried?"

"No, I won't tell him," Tristan answered. "At least not now. But I expect you to tell him."

"Me?" Caroline exclaimed. "How can I do that?"

"I'm awfully sorry, but that's something I can't help you with," Tristan got up, facing her. "However, I expect you to put things to rights. Break up with Edmundson, confess to Siegfried and hope he'll forgive you."

"He won't!" Caroline whispered. Stepping forward, she reached for Tristan's arm. "Tristan, you must understand me! I'm awfully fond of Siegfried, but he is so difficult to live with! He hasn't touched me in weeks. He's always busy and never at home. And you know yourself that he's worse than a mule in matters of stubbornness, that he's the master of bottling things up, that he's ..."

"... your husband, Mrs Farnon!" Tristan interrupted, pulling his arm away and stepping away from her. "He's the father of your child and the man you promised to love and to honour!"

"Tristan!" She was begging now.

He shook his head. "Caroline, this entire business makes me sick! I simply – if there's anything simple in this dreadful affair – want you to sort it out as quickly as you can and, if possible, without hurting my brother more than you've already done. But if you don't do so in a fortnight - or if I ever see you with Edmundson again - I'm going to tell Siegfried myself!"

"And if he won't forgive me?" Caroline sounded like a small girl.

"Then you'll probably have to deal with a divorce," Tristan stated coldly. "However, I think for Tim's sake Siegfried will go to any length to save the marriage. But you need to be aware that you've hurt him terribly and that your chances of regaining his trust are rather small. I'm afraid you've made yourself a bed of nails. It won't be comfortable to lie in it."

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**Crossing the Siegfried line**

Disclaimers: Just see chapter 1.

And I want to thank Chinoise once again for the great work she's doing by betaing this story!

**_Chapter 3: The lost way_**

London, Winter 1949

"_... be assured that neither we nor the Farnons have any interest __in making this entire, sad story talk of the town, so we all keep telling everyone that you're visiting an old relative on the continent. However, there are two problems: Your husband obviously had an argument with Nanny Smith. She's quit and is already gone. As a result, Siegfried moved with Tim into Skeldale house where Helen Herriot is looking after your son. The second problem is your husband's health. While I was calling at Skeldale yesterday to see Tim, I met Dr. Allinson, who'd been tending to Siegfried. He's caught a cold and Dr. Allinson is worried about his lungs. I only saw your husband briefly because Helen shooed him up to bed. While he was perfectly charming as always, he is also extremely distant. I am certain he knows that we are in contact, but he didn't ask about you ..."_

Putting her sister's letter down on the desk, Caroline Farnon wrapped her arms around her small form. Although she wore trousers, a blouse and a thick, knitted sweater and had a roaring fire going, she was freezing. She didn't know how often she had read Catherine's letter since it had arrived the previous day, but it still made her cry. She couldn't remember ever having felt so sad, miserable and entirely alone. Walking over to the fireplace, she took the photograph in the silver frame standing on the mantelpiece in her hands and looked at it. The picture, taken only a few weeks before, showed Timothy. He sat on Siegfried's shoulder, both beaming towards the photographer. Stroking over the glass covering the photograph, Caroline swallowed and used the sleeve of her sweater to wipe tears from her cheek.

Looking at her son, Caroline remembered the nurse at the hospital in Brawton who'd brought her Timothy at the morning after she'd given birth to him. Grinning broadly, she'd said: "I see the new father was already visiting."

"Yes," Caroline had confirmed. "He couldn't wait to meet his son for the first time so he came rather early, had a look at him through the window in the nursery and then told me how wonderful his son is." She'd reached out for Timothy, smiling at him. "And he's right, isn't he? You're indeed wonderful!" Looking again at the nurse, she'd asked: "Did you meet my husband at the nursery?"

The nurse had laughed. "No, he just passed me on the stairs – and I was so amused! You know, Mrs Farnon, I don't know your husband, but I recognized him at first sight. In the 24 years I've worked as a nurse I've never seen such a funny, striking similarity between a father and his son!"

Caroline had laughed, too. "You think my husband looks like a baby?"

"No, no, certainly not," the nurse had replied. "He's a handsome man, your husband. However, your pretty son looks just like him and I'm sure he will become a handsome man someday too."

The similarity between Timothy and Siegfried was still striking. Caroline actually thought that it had become even more pronounced during the last several months. While Tim's hair had been blond and curly during his first weeks, it had straightened now and gotten the same red golden shine as Siegfried's. Timothy had also inherited his father's high forehead, the blue-grey eyes, the sensitive mouth and the energetic chin. And Caroline was already sure that with time, his sweet, little nose would grow to look as patrician and noble as Siegfried's.

How she missed her son! Closing her eyes – and by now she was definitely crying again – she remembered the silken texture of his hair, his unique, sweet smell and the sound of his laughter. The memories made her heart felt as if a big fist had closed around and was squeezing it.

Why was she still in London? Why didn't she take the next train home? If she went to the station now, she could still get the night express to Leeds and be at home watching how Tim woke up, stretching and meowing like a kitten – which was also like his father, who used to sleep on his side, but turned on his back when waking up, stretching and purring lazily.

But she didn't want to think of Siegfried! Especially not of Siegfried in bed, his hair tousled, the top two buttons of his pyjamas open – they somehow always managed to open during the night – and smiling at her with the special, gentle smile he seemed to have reserved especially for her.

Would she ever get to see this smile again?

No, she wouldn't think about. Not now. And she wouldn't think about him being sick, either. She couldn't bear the thought of that. Siegfried was the real reason why she wasn't sitting in a train to Leeds. Truth to tell, he was actually the reason that she was in this mess.

No. That wasn't true. Siegfried had done nothing except be himself. It was not fair to blame him for her inability to deal with him, and she certainly couldn't blame him for her recklessness and cowardice.

Curling up on the sofa, Caroline hugged a pillow to her chest and closed her eyes. She was terribly tired, yet she couldn't sleep. She hadn't slept the previous night either, nor the night before – had she ever properly rested since that horrible morning when Tristan had called on her? He'd left her in a state of sheer, utter panic. The thought of looking Siegfried in the eye after what she'd done; the mere idea of telling him that she'd slept with Richard had made her tremble like a leaf. She couldn't begin to imagine how Siegfried would react. Would he rage and yell at her? He'd never done so before. As hot-tempered and choleric as he was, he'd never raised his voice towards his wife. Besides she knew whenever something really got under his skin, he tended to become quiet. And that was what Caroline feared. The contempt in his eyes, the hard line his mouth would become – no, she couldn't tell him.

The longer she'd thought about what Tristan had demanded her to do, the more Caroline had panicked.

Finally she'd fled. She'd thrown a few of her clothes in a suitcase, scribbled a note for Siegfried, asked the nanny to look after Tim – fortunately he'd slept through it all – and had driven to Richard, falling sobbing and trembling in his arms. And then, during the night she'd spent at Richard's place – this time in the guest room because she'd wanted to be alone – she'd listened out into the dark. A part of her had feared to hear the engine of Siegfried's car and his voice in the hall; another part of her longed for him and had hoped that he would come.

He certainly had known then. Tristan would have told him after she'd been even too gutless to write the ugly truth down for him to read. In her note she'd only written that she was sorry, "but after what I've done it's better that I leave. Tristan knows. Please talk to him. I love you, Siegfried; I really do though you probably won't believe that anymore."

Siegfried hadn't come to Richard's house – neither the first night nor the second day. Instead Caroline's older sister Catherine had called and asked Caroline to meet her at the beck where they'd often played as children.

Loving as always, Catherine pulled Caroline in her arms, kissing her forehead. "Oh, Caro – how did you get yourself in such a terrible mess?" she'd asked and then she'd told how Siegfried had called the day before. "He asked for you. Unfortunately I made a joke about him not knowing where you are. Imagine my shock as he replied truthfully that he really didn't know. 'She's left me'. He didn't want to talk on the phone – I thought he didn't want to talk at all, but of course being worried I drove over to Skeldale where he told me that you're having an affair with Richard Edmundson."

Caroline had wrapped her arms around herself. "How did he sound?" she'd asked.

Catherine had rolled her eyes. "What do you expect? He's certainly not happy, but he was very controlled and rather quiet."

"Do you think he's furious?"

"I don't know him well enough," Catherine had answered. "As I've said: He was very much in control of himself and didn't give me a chance to read his emotions. But I do think he's shocked and disappointed."

Catherine had offered her sister to bring her back home or to take her up at her place for a while, but Caroline hadn't wanted her family becoming involved. Besides she had been convinced – and still was – that Siegfried wouldn't take her back. He was a proud man with high standards and even if he would have been willing to take her back for the sake of their son, as his brother believed he would do, he would never forgive her and never trust her again.

The affair certainly wasn't the only problem in Caroline's marriage. Siegfried and she had already been in trouble before she'd become close to Richard.

Thinking back, Caroline was aware that her relationship with Siegfried had never been easy. From the very start there had been many things standing between them, starting with their different backgrounds and the age gap of 16 years to their expectations of life.

Caroline, the daughter of very wealthy parents, had never thought about a career of her own. For her it had always been clear that she'd one day marry, have a nice house, a few children and an interesting social life. And with the fortune she'd already inherited from her mother she hadn't even needed to think about her future husband's earnings.

Twenty-two years old, swooned over by a dozen admirers - among them Richard Edmundson - Caroline had enjoyed her life to the fullest. And it had been a wonderful, golden November day as she, cheerfully and in the best of moods, had galloped over a field on the Hulton estate, following the pack of hounds hunting the fox. Caroline's brown mare was a speedy horse and so she'd already left Richard on his big, but not too quick chestnut, behind her.

Now the mare jumped over a ditch and Caroline felt how the reins glided out of her hands. They had become a bit slippery because the mare was sweating under the warm sun. Caroline didn't mind much. The hounds, their master and his whips were far in front of her*, most of the other riders were quite a way behind her. There was only a big grey cantering almost parallel to her on the other side of the field. They were both going towards one of the typical Yorkshire walls. Yet as Caroline came closer to it, she saw that almost all of the grey stones were covered with prickly blackberry scrub. There was only one patch in the middle of the wall which was free from the brushwork. Without thinking about, Caroline steered her mare towards it. Unfortunately, the rider on the grey had seen the brushwork too and directed his horse towards the same spot as Caroline. He was a bit behind Caroline now – his way towards the wall had been longer as hers – and so Caroline cut his way, only at the last moment noticing the grey. Because of the slippery reins, she couldn't stop. Yet the rider of the grey showed great horsemanship: He somehow managed to turn his horse around, away from the mare and in a small circle, letting Caroline go over the wall in front of him. He immediately jumped after her and both stopped their horses as they were on the other side of the wall. Caroline turned and found herself looking into a pair of beaming blue eyes.

"I'm awfully sorry for cutting!" she said.

Blue eyes laughed and lifted his bowler hat, showing a head full of tousled, red-blond hair. "We survived, didn't we?" Manoeuvring his horse next to Caroline's mare he said: "Just to make sure it won't happen again I think I'll have to remain at your side." There was a twinkle in his eyes and Caroline suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach.

"Are you're sure you're up to that?" she laughed back and patted her mare's neck. "She's a real winner!"

Blue eyes laughed again, pulled a carrot slice out of his pocket and with one gloved finger touched his grey's shoulder. The grey turned his head, taking the treat out of his rider's hand, and chewed happily. "What do you think, my boy? Are we up to accompanying these pretty ladies?" The grey snickered quietly and his rider grinned. "We are! We're going to stick to you like a barnacle!"

Caroline started her mare again. Cantering towards the woods where the master and his dogs had just disappeared, she called over her shoulder: "We'll see!"

An hour later, after a lot of laughing and flirting together while galloping through the wood, they arrived at the meeting point where blue eyes jumped down from his grey, patted his neck and then offered Caroline his arms to help her down. Smiling at her he lifted his bowler again: "I think it's time I introduce myself. I'm Siegfried Farnon."

"Oh, you're the new vet at Darrowby, the miracle worker with horses!" Caroline chuckled.

"Who told you that?" he inquired.

"Janet Phillips, an old friend of mine," Caroline answered, keeping back a giggle. It was only three days since she'd met Janet at a party where she'd told her that the new vet at Darrowby had cured her horse from colic and that he was "totally charming", graced with "the cutest butt from here to Scotland" and a smile "to die for." Caroline had been rather amused about that – in her opinion, country vets were all rustic-looking men who tramped around in Wellingtons and shabby corduroy trousers, who smelled like cow manure and were about as charming as an average Yorkshire farmer. However, the vet in front of her certainly didn't belong in that league. His black riding boots with brown tops obviously were the work of a good shoemaker, perfectly cut and polished; the white trousers were as immaculate as his coat – and it was a scarlet one which had Caroline wondering. He was new in the area, wasn't he? So how had he managed to get an invitation to wear colours? Richard Edmundson who'd hunted since ages with the Hulton pack, was still wearing black. Receiving permission to show colours by Lord Hulton, the host of the hunt and master of the hounds, proved that Hulton didn't only think highly of the new vet's abilities as a horseman, but also regarded him as a gentleman.

Stretching out her hand towards him, Caroline smiled. "I'm Caroline Fisher."

Actually it was rather funny: After the hunt Caroline had driven home to change for the ball at Hulton's hall. Returning and parking her car in the yard, she almost broke out in laughter: William George Henry Augustus 11. Marquis of Hulton was once again showing the more eccentric side of his character by running in dirty blue dungarees and Wellingtons over the yard down to his pig stay, followed by no one else but the new vet, no longer in his posh hunting attire, but in corduroy trousers, a baggy, old tweed jacket and a brown overall flapping around his lean form as he dashed into the pig stay. And although he wore Wellingtons, he moved with an almost feline grace.

As handsome as he looked even in his work attire, Caroline was nevertheless a bit disappointed. She'd hoped to see him again at the ball. Yet with him working in the pig sty, he probably wouldn't attend.

Caroline was wrong about that: After an hour's delay, Siegfried Farnon appeared in the ballroom at Lord Hulton's side. Both men wore tails and patent leather shoes, but while his lordship seemed to long to get back into his dungarees, his vet wouldn't have looked out of place at one of the diplomatic gatherings Caroline's father used to host.

* * *

Actually it was Caroline's father who a few weeks later caused the blooming romance between his daughter and Siegfried to come to an end. Fisher senior had become appointed His Majesty's Ambassador to the United States of America, which meant that he'd soon take up residence in Washington. And with him being a widower – Caroline's mother had died five years before – he'd needed one of his daughters to come with him and take over the duties as mistress of the house. Caroline had been the obvious choice: Her sister Catherine, who was five years older, had already been married and was expecting her first child; Cassandra, two years younger, was a tomboy who'd rather muck out stables than entertain in the salon; and Claudia, the youngest of the Fisher sisters, had still been a school girl.

Caroline had seen her upcoming departure as a reason for deepening her relationship with Siegfried, but he'd once again shown himself to be the perfect gentleman. On one of her last nights at home she'd been out with Siegfried. They'd eaten in an Indian restaurant in Brawton, and stepping out of it into the clear, cold night Siegfried had taken Caroline's arm. "What do you want us to do now?"

Caroline had smiled at him and whispered: "I'd very much like to be alone with you somewhere ..."

He hadn't made any pretence of not understanding, but nevertheless shook his head. "Dear ..." Leading her to his car he'd helped her in, entered on his side and looked at her. "Darling, don't get me wrong. I feel awfully flattered, but – Caroline, you're very young and we haven't known each other for long. I'd feel like the worst of cads if I were to take advantage of your youth and inexperience. I really think it better that we don't do anything you might regret someday. You know, in Washington you'll probably forget all about me."

In a way he'd been right. Although she hadn't forgotten him, she'd fallen in love with an American officer. Gregory was very handsome, one of "these bright-faced, clean-shaved, nice American boys" as her father had called him. And he'd been totally in love with her – so much he'd proposed to her only ten days after they'd first met. But as much as Caroline had liked Greg, the idea of becoming an American officer's wife hadn't appealed to her. She'd known she'd miss her sisters and her friends in England too much.

Yet Caroline had had a lot of fun with Greg. However, when the war was finally over, Caroline's father retired and they'd moved back to England – what meant Caroline had to say farewell to her American boyfriend.

During the five years Caroline spent in America, she always kept informed about her friends in England. Catherine had always been a dedicated letter writer, telling Caroline in length and detail what was going on at home, including the news about a certain vet's love life. Caroline learned that Diana Brompton had for some time been "the sultan's favourite," followed by one Julia Rawling – as Catherine had expressed it, the "rather racy relict of a regiment's commander." However, the lady hadn't stood much of a chance for once becoming the relict of a rather racy country vet because said vet had redirected his "always wandering affections" – once again Catherine's words – towards a "lush blonde of unknown background."

Caroline had always been amused by reading these stories. Somehow she had known that none of these women would become Mrs Farnon – until she'd gotten a letter, telling her that Catherine had seen "your favourite vet and Marjorie Edgerton, obviously pretty much in love with each other."

Caroline had been at school with Marjorie though Marjorie had been one year ahead of her. Nevertheless they'd gotten to know each other so well that Caroline had been aware of Marjorie being a higher calibre than the women Siegfried usually flirted with. And although Caroline had never been fond of her former school mate, she had to admit that Marjorie was a beauty. While at school together, Marjorie had once, annoyed Caroline because every teacher there had swooned over Marjorie's intelligence, her eagerness to read and to learn, her talent in almost every sport and her oh-so-splendid social skills – she'd been head girl over all the younger girls, who were mad about her. Marjorie had also been the captain of the school's hockey team while Caroline had been the one who at her first attempt at playing hockey had somehow managed to get the bat between her legs and twisted her ankle. When Marjorie had appeared in her white tennis dress and asked for a partner to play with, half of the school's inhabitants had run to get their rackets. When Caroline had asked for a partner, her request was met with sighs - and Marjorie often had been the one who'd taken pity on her, patiently trying to serve Caroline balls directly to her racket because that was her only chance of occasionally hitting one. Even during their school years, Marjorie had already been known as a splendid horse woman. She definitely could cope with Siegfried, while Caroline was well aware of the fact that she herself couldn't. To add to the list of Marjorie's accomplishments, while Caroline had driven three piano teachers to distraction and had never been able to master more than "Für Elise," Marjorie had used to play finger-twisting pieces from Liszt and Rachmaninoff "just for the fun of it."

Although Caroline had been with Greg at the time Marjorie and Siegfried were together, she'd suffered agonies of jealousy. Every time she got a letter from Catherine, she scanned it quickly; always expecting to read "Marjorie and Siegfried have announced their engagement." Instead, Catherine had one day written, "Yesterday I met your favourite vet. He's home on sick leave – nothing to worry about, only a concussion he obviously deals well enough with – since he managed to attend Gloria Hulton's birthday party with Diana Brompton. It seems his romance with Marjorie is over." Caroline had felt relieved by reading that – and actually that had been the day she'd decided that she would give her romance with Siegfried another chance when she finally came back to England.

* * *

Three years later she'd been back – and on her third day home she found herself already at Skeldale house. She'd decided she needed a horse again – and well, wasn't it only sensible that she would want her old friend - who wasn't only an experienced horseman, but also a veterinary surgeon - present when she bought a horse?

It wasn't Siegfried who opened the door when she rang, but a brunette with an apron, drying her hands on a towel. She'd obviously come straight out of the kitchen, which made Caroline wonder if she was the late Mrs Hall's successor – and she didn't like that a bit. This young woman was definitely too pretty for Caroline to want her around Siegfried all the time. On the other hand, who was she to fear a rival in an apron?

Smiling politely, Caroline decided to make sure the brunette knew with whom she was dealing. "A very good afternoon to you. I'm Caroline Fisher. I'd like to see Siegfried ..." Pretending to have used the informal address as a slip, born out of familiarity, she corrected herself immediately: "Ahem, sorry – Mr Farnon."

"I'm sorry, but he's on his afternoon rounds at the moment." The brunette smiled and stepped aside. "But do come in." Offering her a hand, she proceeded: "I'm Helen Herriot, the wife of Siegfried's partner. I'm sure he'll be back very soon. Would you like to have a cup of tea or coffee while you wait?"

Half an hour later, after Caroline had been given coffee and scones and had a nice conversation with Helen and Tristan. she heard the front door open and then Siegfried's still-familiar voice. It was enough to make her heart beat faster and the coffee cup almost slip out of her suddenly trembling fingers. Tristan, who'd obviously heard the door as well, stood up. "Siegfried's back – I'll fetch him."

Caroline heard Tristan's steps on the stone floor of the hall, another door opening and then energetic footsteps as Siegfried burst in, wearing rather crumbled beige corduroy trousers, a brown vest and a grey jacket. "Caroline!" He sounded absolutely delighted and at the same time a bit confused. Caroline couldn't help thinking him cute as he tried to introduce Helen– who, with a tactful and amused smile, was already taking her leave – and Siegfried nearly stumbled over himself in awkwardness - which made him appear very young and appealing. "You look marvellous, Caroline!"

"So do you." Suddenly she felt calm and entirely sure of herself. She knew that the new costume she'd gotten while travelling through London looked good on her and that the flattering red hat suited her well. And watching a rather fidgety Siegfried beaming at her and telling her that he'd like nothing better than to look for a horse with her – well, there couldn't have been a bigger ego booster.

Because she'd only just come back to England, she didn't have a car of her own yet and had therefore taken a cab for her ride to Skeldale. For the way home she didn't need another cab – Siegfried offered to take her home, which gave her another delightful 15 minutes with him. For once, Siegfried did not drive like a man possessed, but as carefully as if he were transporting raw eggs.

Switching off the engine at the end of the driveway in front of her house, he smiled at her, still slightly awkwardly. "Here we are – and when will I get to see you again?"

In answer, she bent over to him, laid her hand against his smoothly shaved cheek and kissed him. For a little moment he didn't react – he obviously hadn't expected this approach. But then his lips opened and he pulled her close, kissing her back arduously and passionately, for once obviously not minding that they were in front of her father's house in broad daylight.

But Caroline knew that her youngest sister was at home and had certainly heard the car approaching. And with Claudia being exceptionally noisy, she was now probably standing behind the curtains of her room, watching the scene. So Caroline broke the kiss, but put her hand on Siegfried's knee where Claudia couldn't see it and smiled at him. "My youngest sister is home – and she's as curious as a cat!" Stroking with one finger a bit up his thigh, she asked: "Do you have any idea where we could look for a horse?"

"Oh, of course! Pimsley's got two rather good youngsters. And there's this very pretty young mare at Marjorie Edgerton's stud – an offspring of the famous Heroic, just three and extremely well balanced with really good gaits. She's a bit hot-tempered, but can jump houses ..."

"Siegfried!" Caroline laughed. "If you don't want to come over every day in order to prevent that young mare from eating me alive, I think we should look for something a bit more docile than one of Marjorie Edgerton's notorious wild beasts."

"I'd love to come over every day!" he beamed at her. "But you're right – I'd hate to see you getting hurt. So let me think ..." He tousled his hair with both hands. "Got it – Hindley's chestnut. He's nine years old, sweet-tempered, not too bad to look at and though his gaits are nothing to write home about, he can hold his own in a hunting field. And as far as I know Hindley would like to sell him – the gelding really belonged to his wife, who's expecting another baby, so she doesn't have time to ride anymore. What do you think? Shall I call him and make an appointment? When would it suit you?"

"Tomorrow?" Caroline couldn't wait to see him again.

"Splendid! I'll give Hindley a call as soon as I'm back home. And then I'll call you!" He lay his hand over hers, looked in her eyes and laughed. "While we're at it, shouldn't we look for a pony for your youngest sister too? It might keep her from spying from behind curtains ..."

"Knowing Claudia, I rather think it would expand the range of her spying!" Caroline replied. "With her on a pony I wouldn't dare to kiss you even in the middle of the forest for fear of hearing her gallop off announcing to all of Darrowby that I was wallowing in the sinful embrace of the notorious Siegfried Farnon! She's always swiping the cheesy romance novels our maids are so fond of – and I can tell you, reading them has given her a vocabulary to boggle the mind!"

* * *

To her delight Siegfried didn't hold himself back this time – at least not when it came to spending time with her and showering her with kisses and embraces, though they weren't exactly as "sinful" as Caroline might have wished. He was obviously determined to show her that he wasn't as notorious as the gossip mongers of Darrowby wished him to be.

Six weeks after she'd come back, he proposed to her – and no, he certainly didn't need to persuade her to say yes.

Although she really wasn't fond of pig sties and cow manure, she'd accompanied him on his afternoon rounds. She'd simply wanted to be with him and there had been no other way to accomplish that.

Luckily he hadn't been too busy this afternoon. After only three visits he stopped the car in a lonely, very idyllic little dale, switched the engine off and smiled at Caroline: "What do you think about kissing an oddly smelling veterinary surgeon?"

"That depends," Caroline replied.

"On what?"

Bending towards him she sniffed at his jacket. "On the smell – and the vet, of course."

Siegfried pulled her close, his mouth searching for hers. "Willing to kiss this one?" he whispered against her lips.

"More than only willing – eager!" Caroline closed her eyes and kissed him, tenderly nibbling at his bottom lip. She loved kissing him; she loved to touch his silky hair; she loved the soft, little purr he always produced when she touched the back of his neck; she loved how his strong body felt against hers and she always marvelled at the effect he was having on her. Even a soft touch from him – his hand at her back when he led her around on a farm; his finger just stroking her cheek – was enough to make her long to be close to him again. And whenever they kissed, Caroline felt like melting in his arms. She always wished for more than that, but for reasons unknown to her, Siegfried seemed to have decided to tread her with reserve. It sometimes drove her up the wall. Heavens, the man was known for being a veritable lady killer and though Caroline didn't believe all of the many stories about his womanizing that were told in Darrowby, she was sure that he'd had his share of affairs and experiences with women. However, the most "lady killing" action she got from him was his hand gently – very gently – caressing one of her breasts now and then. It was far from being enough, but then again Caroline sensed that his reserve certainly wasn't based on not wanting more as well – as far as this was concerned, by now she had been close enough to him to register his body's reaction to her – but his reticence was probably more due to the fact that he didn't want to start something he couldn't have finished properly and with style.

Herein lay the problem: Caroline lived at her father's house – and as much as her old man respected his adult daughter's privacy, Siegfried certainly wouldn't have wanted to sneak around Sir Geoffrey Fisher's house in search of his daughter's bedroom. Yet Skeldale wasn't an option either. As much as Caroline wanted Siegfried to make love to her – after a few visits in his home she knew already that her chance to get him there for a sweet, undisturbed hour was around as small as her chance of finding a jar of caviar at the farmer's market in Darrowby. She was fairly certain if she could manage somehow to pull Siegfried up the stairs and into his bedroom at Skeldale, it wouldn't take more than five minutes for Jimmy Herriot to burst in to show his beloved Uncle Siegfried his newest painting. And then the phone would ring and Tristan would storm in without knocking – at Skeldale no one ever bothered to knock before bursting into a room because everyone always seemed to expect being welcomed with delight. She could already hear Tristan announcing: "Siegfried, one of Lord Hulton's horses is suffering from keepvetbusyitis and needs you to see to it immediately and for at least four hours." And even if the Hulton beasts for once didn't need Siegfried's attention, the last time she'd tried to kiss him at Skeldale, Helen had wandered in with her knitting to see if the sleeve of the sweater she was making for Siegfried was long enough. And the previous day, as Siegfried had just taken her in his arms, James, looking once again like the apocalypse in a white coat, had come for advice about an eggbound tortoise. So instead of being kissed, Caroline had held the paw of the mother-to-be while Siegfried got a salad bowl out of the kitchen cabinet, filled it with hot water and gave the tortoise a "nice little soak." In the meantime, his partner kept running in and out of the living room with various saws – "Do you think this will do for opening the shell?" – and searching for a book about how to get a tortoise's shell mended after performing surgery on the beast. And of course, one had to clean up the patient before opening him up, but wasn't Siegfried overdoing it with the bathing? Siegfried had cheerfully ignored him, whistling while he kept the tortoise from crawling out of the bowl – she obviously had agreed with James Herriot about the bath. After a few minutes he'd lifted Madame Tortoise out of the salad bowl, reached her to Caroline and asked, "Could you just hold her with her back towards me?" A bit of poking at the animal's backside, then the tortoise had produced a few tiny eggs – much to James' and Caroline's surprise. Siegfried had grinned, given his partners the tortoise and the egg and happily stated: "Hot water works for getting tortoise shell spectacles soft enough to flex them, so why shouldn't it work with the animal itself?"

James had obviously been fascinated watching his partner's solution to the problem, but Caroline wasn't much interested in tortoises and their birth problems. She'd really have preferred to have Siegfried to herself, but that obviously wasn't possible at Skeldale.

Although Siegfried never talked about his former affairs, Caroline was certain of one thing: In the madhouse called Skeldale, Siegfried certainly had always slept alone. And as nice as the members of his household were – the thought that the master of the house could want a bit of privacy every now and then obviously never occurred to them.

"Caroline?" Siegfried was getting out of the car. "Walk with me?"

"With pleasure! But shouldn't you be seeing your next patient?"

"No – there isn't another one for today. I'm done and free." Quickly, as always, he came around the car and held Caroline's door open for her. Taking her hand he led her down to the little beck. "Did I ever tell you that the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons has a new member these days?" He was beaming in pride. "There are still miracles happening: My baby brother has made it through his finals at last! He got the letter just this morning."

"How absolutely wonderful!" Caroline kissed Siegfried's check. "I know you won't admit it, but you are proud on him!"

"I'm so proud on him that I'm even willing to admit it to him!" Siegfried smiled. "Besides," his voice became soft and quiet now, "Tristan's qualification means that I'm relieved of providing for him." He pointed to a large rock at the beck. "Would you like to sit down there for a moment?"

There was something in his tone that made Caroline's knees become as wobbly as jelly, so she gratefully let herself down on the rock, looking up at him expectantly.

Siegfried breathed deeply, straightened his shoulders, pulled a little blue box out of the pocket of his jacket, opened it and took her hand. Bending over, he kissed it with a gallant gesture of old-fashioned courtesy. "Caroline, you know that I love you." Going down on one knee, he showed her a ring with a sparkling diamond. "Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

He'd hardly said the last word before Caroline reached for the ring, pulled it onto her finger and cried: "Yes! Yes!" Taking his face between her hands she kissed the tip of his nose and then his mouth. "I do love you, Siegfried. Let's marry as quickly as possible!"

Siegfried laughed. "There's no need to rush it, my darling. I won't change my mind. I've already waited long enough for you."

Caroline kissed him again. "We've both waited long enough ..." she whispered in his ear. "I want you to make me yours – entirely yours."

"Oh?" With Siegfried she could be sure that he never pretended not to understand a hint. Encircling her waist with his strong arms, he let himself fall on his back, pulling her with him into the soft grass so that she came to lie on top of him. While kissing her passionately, he let his hands glide down to her buttocks, fondling them. Caroline pressed herself against him, her hands stroking through his hair. She wanted more, so much more and therefore made a disappointed sound as he broke the kiss. For a moment he looked into her eyes and then whispered: "You're so lovely!" With one quick move he rolled her over on her back and let his mouth wander down over her neck.

Caroline closed her eyes again and enjoyed his closeness and how his nimble fingers moved over her neck to the collar of her blouse.

"Caroline?"

It was clear that he was asking for approval and Caroline gave it to him by opening not only the first, but then two more buttons of her blouse.

"Caroline!" This time it wasn't a question, but almost a sigh. Bending over her, he kissed the skin she'd freed, slowly going down to the swell of her breasts with his mouth while his hand cupped the left one. He didn't apply any pressure, but the gentle weight of his hand alone was enough to make her almost dizzy.

"Siegfried!" she moaned, her hands going down to his backside. She'd always admired this part of him and now, touching it for the first time, she marvelled at how firm it felt.

Now he lifted the hem of her chemise and his lips closed around the tip of her breast, nipping and sucking gently. And there was more: With one of his legs over hers and his groin pressing against her thigh she realized that he was aroused.

His touch had already been enough to make her entire body hum with desire, but the knowledge that she affected him in the same way, that she was able to make the strong-willed man almost lose his composure, was sheer, pure heaven. Now his right hand was on her thigh, pulling her closer against his body while his mouth on her breast drove her to distraction. This was the wonderful man who would become her husband! Soon he'd belong to her and they would share a bed every night, making love as often as they chose.

Caroline wouldn't have minded sealing their marital bliss here and now, in the soft grass under the trees close to the cheerfully purling beck, but Siegfried obviously wasn't keen on this kind of outdoor activity. Looking up, he smiled at her at bit awkwardly. "I'm afraid I've got a bit carried away. But it's entirely your fault, you know?"

"What have I done?"

"You're there! That's enough." Siegfried bent down and kissed her again, but then rose up, combed his hair back with spread fingers and offered her his hand. "I could do with some tea," he announced. "Let's go back, shall we?"

Caroline closed her blouse and bit on her bottom lip. "Siegfried?" she asked. "Couldn't we have the tea at the sweet little tea room at Brawton?"

"Yes, of course – whatever you want." He led her back to the car. "However, Mrs Alton's scones are not to be sneezed at."

"No doubt about that," Caroline confirmed. "But I'd like to have you all for myself for a little bit longer. You know at Skeldale I always have to share you with your clients and Tristan and the Herriots and the phone ..." Climbing into the car she waited until he'd closed her door and climbed behind the wheel. "Don't get me wrong, Siegfried - I do like your brother and the Herriots. Tristan is rather cute and the Herriots are exceptionally nice. But sometimes I'm almost a bit jealous. They're all so close to you and so used to getting all of your attention ..."

He'd already started the car and was driving down the road, but now he reached for her hand, pulled it to his face and kissed it. "Caroline, James and Helen are my friends and I'm very fond of them. But it's you I love and it's you I want to share my life with. You'll be always the one who's closest to me. Besides," now he smiled the cheeky smile she'd always found irresistible, "I want us to have more privacy in our married life than we could get at Skeldale. So I'd like to show you something – before tea, if you can wait that long."

* * *

He'd shown her the house he'd intended to buy – and that had almost led to their first argument. Although Caroline normally had never thought much about money – she'd always had enough, so she'd never needed to worry about it – she had been aware that her new fiancé would have to stretch his resources to the limit in order to purchase the house. He hadn't even made it secret. Instead he'd told her that the practise had developed so nicely during the last few years that he'd managed to save a bit despite funding Tristan's education. "Of course, I haven't saved enough to purchase the house outright, but I've already spoken to my banker. He's willing to mortgage the house, so we'll get it – if you want it."

She'd wanted it. Although the house wasn't as stately and roomy as the place she'd grown up in, she'd loved it at first sight and had told Siegfried so, hugging him and whispering in his ear: "How long, do you think, will we have to wait until we need the nursery?"

"As far as my involvement in this project is concerned I intend to start to work on it as soon as possible!" Siegfried had replied, pulling her even closer. "And I'm very much looking forward to it."

"So do I, my darling – very much!"

"Then it's settled." He nibbled at her ear. "Tomorrow I'm going to see my banker."

Caroline had leaned back and looked at him. "Why don't you talk to my father first?"

He'd let her go and, walking over to the window, he'd said: "I intend to see your father tomorrow to ask him for your hand – and that's why I want to have my talk with the bank before I speak with him. I'd like to tell your father that I'm able to provide his daughter with a suitable home."

"But Siegfried," she'd stepped over to him and removed one of her hairs from his collar. "You're aware that I come with a dowry valued a bit more than half a pig and a few towels, don't you? So there's no need for you to burden yourself with a mortgage. We can afford the house without one. You need only talk to father about an arrangement – you know, as long as I'm not married he administers to my finances. However, I already have some money of my own ..."

He'd stopped her with a quick kiss. "I'm aware that you're quite a catch, Caroline. Nevertheless I don't intend to live off your money and neither would I relish the idea of buying a house with your money. What kind of impression would it make to your father if I came to ask him for the fortune of his daughter as well as her hand?"

"Siegfried, don't be foolish! My father has always said that he wouldn't mind one of his daughters marrying Jimmy, the greengrocer, as long as Jimmy were an honourable man," Caroline explained.

"But that's the point, my dearest: Being honourable, neither Jimmy, the greengrocer nor Siegfried the vet wants to become a kept man," he'd replied seriously.

"I didn't know you were so old-fashioned, Siegfried!" Caroline protested. "I really don't understand why you want to work your finger to the bone to paying off a mortgage while I'm rolling in money!"

"Because," he'd straightened his shoulders, looking very decided, "I'm indeed old-fashioned and perhaps even rather stuffy in certain things. And I would like you to realize that sooner than later because I'm certainly not going to change my values."

Never before had Siegfried been so firm and straightforward with her, and for a few seconds Caroline had been irritated. But hadn't it been his strength and willpower which had from the first moment appealed to her? He was a man who exactly know what he wanted and how he would achieve it – and that was what she loved about him, wasn't it?

Caroline had been used to twisting men around her fingers all her life. It had started with her father, who'd never been able to refuse her anything and it had proceeded with her admirers. Even Greg, who'd been in command of hundred of men, had jumped through hoops for her. Siegfried was the only man she'd never been able to manipulate – not only because he was 21 years her senior, but also because of his willpower and pride. He loved her, he definitely did – but with him that certainly didn't mean that he was willing to grovel at her feet.

Siegfried bought the house with his own money – and Caroline's father had liked that very much. After Siegfried asked him for Caroline's hand, he'd been all praise and admiration for his future son-in-law. "You couldn't have chosen better, Caroline. That's a man every father can be proud of as a son-in-law! He's hard-working, he's got energy and willpower in abundance, he's well educated and has a razor-sharp mind. I'm sure he'll make a great husband for you, darling."

* * *

During the next several weeks, Caroline hadn't gotten much of a chance to think about how good a husband Siegfried would make. Overlooking the renovation of the house – Siegfried had happily let that job to her, saying that he'd gotten enough of that after buying Skeldale – while at the same time organizing a wedding had been a lot of work and Caroline had been very grateful to her sisters for helping her. Without Catherine or even Cassandra she'd have hardly been able to make it through - especially as Siegfried hadn't shown much help as far as the wedding was concerned.

When Caroline had asked him how he'd like to get married, he'd shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, I've never given this question a thought and I still don't care much about it as long as the result is getting you for my wife in the end. So just tell me where and when I'm needed and I'll be there in my tailor's finest wedding suit, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

Yet his "tailor's finest" had resulted in a little argument. Caroline's father had once been a top dog at the War ministry and he had expected his future son-in-law to walk down the aisle in uniform. Caroline would have liked that too – she thought Siegfried would look dashing. Besides, he was a decorated officer, wasn't he? So why not show it? It would certainly silence her friends who couldn't understand why Caroline was marrying a simple country vet.

But Caroline's suggestion that a uniform would be suitable wedding attire for Siegfried was met with a firm and decided refusal. "No. I'm not an officer, but a country vet. Get used to it."

"But Darling, my father expects you to show up in your uniform with all your medals!" Caroline had kissed him. "Just do him the favour, will you?"

"I'm awfully sorry, Caroline, but I won't. As much as I like and respect your father, I won't go against my principles even for him. The uniform stands for the war and that's a time in my life I really don't care to remember."

"Siegfried! We won the war, didn't we?" Caroline had tried again.

He'd shaken his head and sighed. "Caroline, I don't believe that there are any winners in a war. There's only death and destruction on all sides and mourning and devastation all over. I hate war and I only wore the uniform because there were greater things at stake than my feelings. Yet I hope and pray that neither I nor the son we're hopefully to have one day will ever need to wear a uniform. So you'll get your bridegroom as the civilian he loves to be – in a cutaway with a white gardenia in his buttonhole."

She'd tried sulking – it has always worked with her father. "But I'd really like to see you in uniform! You'd look dashing in it! And think of my friends – some of them don't believe that a country vet can be a gentleman. I'd like you to show them ..."

He'd furrowed his brows. "Are you ashamed of the country vet?"

"No, Siegfried, certainly not. I love you."

"Well, then you should accept and respect me as the man I am." He'd sounded final and Caroline knew that she couldn't win this argument. Siegfried had made his decision – and though Caroline had thought him rather pig-headed, she'd given in. What else could she have done?

Besides of the question of wedding attire, Siegfried really hadn't shown much interest in planning the wedding. Apart from brooding over the list of wine to serve at the wedding dinner, he obviously thought the entire wedding was something for the women in his life to work out. So even the list of the bridegroom's guests had been provided by Helen Herriot; without her, Siegfried would probably have even forgotten to tell his own mother where and when she would get a chance to see her oldest finally become a husband.

The closer the day of the wedding approached, the more nervous Caroline had become. The "everyday craziness" at Skeldale – as her future brother-in-law used to call it – had made her more and more jumpy. Every time Siegfried had got called away in the middle of a conversation or a meal she'd feared that she'd end up standing in front of the altar, waiting for her bridegroom and his best man who were still somewhere busy calving a cow or patching up an injured cat. She could already imagine how Messieurs Farnon and Herriot would finally gallop into the church, covered in mud and blood, stinking but beaming - and announcing proudly that they'd just helped a litter of piglets into the world.

Caroline told Helen Herriot about this recurring nightmare scenario, and Helen had first laughed, but then said, "Considering that I spent my honeymoon doing TBC testing, we should do something to prevent you from spending your wedding night in a pig sty. I have an idea – and I'll talk to James about. Trust me, I'll make sure that our men won't only appear punctually at the church, but looking clean and smelling nice!"

Helen had kept her promise. She'd persuaded Siegfried's friends and colleagues Granville Bennett and Ewan Ross to come over early on the morning of the wedding and take over the practise. And both of them had indeed been needed: Just one hour before the wedding, Ewan Ross had dashed out to tend to a horse with colic, and half an hour later a badly injured dog had been brought into the surgery. It required both Zoe Bennett and Helen Herriot to prevent Siegfried – still running around in his socks because one of the dogs had hidden his right shoe – from "just having a look" at the patient. Meanwhile James had already become bored because Helen had gotten him into his coat an hour before he had sneaked into the surgery – and he was promptly gotten kicked out by Granville. The older vet had straightened up to all of his imposing height, and asked testily if James didn't trust his ability to do a bit of surgery on his own.

Caroline, arriving in her father's Rolls at the church, had to watch her bridegroom sprint through the church yard, followed by James and Tristan - who was still fidgeting with his bow tie. In addition to the quest for Siegfried's shoe, there had been another little last-minute problem at Skeldale: Siegfried had kept the ring in so secure a place that he could no longer remember where it was. And so for a stressful 15 minutes all the inhabitants of Skeldale had stumbled over each other in their frenzied search for the ring. It had once again been Helen who saved the day – she'd remembered the unused money box in the back of a drawer on Siegfried's desk. And indeed, he'd put the rings there.

* * *

Thankfully, a few hours later all the hustle and bustle had been forgotten. Caroline was happily dancing with her new husband and hearing how her friends had commented on them being "such a lovely couple". Tristan was flirting with all of her friends, looking so dashing in tails that two of them wondered if Caroline had really married the right Farnon. Yet Caroline didn't doubt it for a second. Instead, she was thinking about when they could finally disappear together. Dancing a slow waltz with Siegfried, she whispered in his ear, "Don't you think it's a bit crowded here?"

"Definitely!" He'd swung her around.

"You know I'd really like to get you all to myself, Mr Farnon!" She kissed his cheek.

"Your wish is my order, Mrs Farnon!" He turned her around once more, and then directed her towards the stairs. "Let's disappear and change!"

Finally alone in one of the luxurious suites at the hotel, Siegfried loosened his tie – he had earlier changed out of his cutaway into a black suit which looked very distinguished at him – and yawned. "If I'd have known how exhausting a big wedding was going to be, I'd have insisted on eloping with you!"

"Don't tell me you're tired!" Caroline laughed, opening her suitcase and searching for her negligee, a rather racy piece she'd gotten as a gift from Catherine.

Siegfried sat down on the bed, let himself fall backwards and grinned at her. "You wouldn't want me falling asleep now?"

"Dare – and your chances of surviving this night will be nill!" Caroline took a sweater and a skirt out of her suitcase and hung them over a chair.

"Choked with a pillow on his wedding night – what a fate!" Watching Caroline place few more pieces of clothing on the chair, he asked: "What are you doing, my heart?"

"I'm searching for my negligee!"

Quick as a flash he was out of the bed and pulled her close. "And why do you think you'd need a negligee, Mrs Farnon?" Gently he pushed her jacket down over her shoulders. "You're overdressed, you know?" Throwing the jacket onto the pile of clothes already on the chair, he kissed her and started to open the buttons of her blouse.

For a few seconds Caroline closed her eyes, just enjoying his kiss and how his nimble fingers worked on the buttons. Then it suddenly dawned on her: They were really and truly married now and they were actually alone together. There was no one around to burst in, wanting Siegfried. He was hers, hers alone on this night. She needn't hold herself back anymore, but could finally do what she'd longed to do for weeks. Now she could show him how much she wanted and desired him.

The only question was where to start. She wasn't entirely inexperienced, but she'd never undressed a man – and Siegfried in his three-piece suit was certainly not the easiest start for a beginner.

Always one for the efficient approach, she decided to begin with the tie he'd already loosened. Only the knot was a rather tricky affair – instead of opening under her pulling fingers, it became tight again. Caroline fumbled at it until Siegfried, who'd been busy with her buttons, smiled at her and, without saying a word, put one finger in the knot and pulled it apart. Lifting his chin, he opened the button of his collar. "You may choke me at another opportunity. Just now it would spoil the fun."

Returning to the task of getting her out of her blouse, he left it to her to decide how to proceed with him. Caroline briefly scrutinized him – as far as possible with him kissing her neck – and then put both of her hands on his shoulders under the jacket, pushing the annoying fabric away. He assisted her by turning and adding the jacket to the pile of clothes, then reached for the hem of her chemise, expertly lifting it over her head before bending down to kiss the swell of her breasts. Her lacy bra wasn't a problem for him – he immediately found the catch at the back and opened it, pulling the thing away from her and breathing deeply. "Darling, you're absolutely ravishing!"

His touch on her breasts made her knees go weak and her fingers tremble. For a moment she felt a bit frightened – the way he handled her showed clearly that knew exactly what he was doing, and that he had quite a bit of experience. Caroline reminded herself that she was his wife and that this night meant a lot to him.

Looking down at the top of his head – he'd bent forward and was now kissing the valley between her breasts – she noticed once more that his hair was thinning – and, as always, this sign of his imperfection and mortality touched her. It made him look vulnerable – and as much as she appreciated his strength, at this moment she needed to feel equal to him.

He was now opening the buttons of her skirt and as wonderful as his ministrations felt – Caroline became suddenly aware that things weren't going accordingly to her plan. She'd wanted to undress him – and now she was already standing in front of him only in her knickers and stockings while he was still armoured with vest and shirt and trousers.

"Siegfried?"

"Hmm?"

Softly she shoved him away and tugged at his vest. "Now you're the one who's overdressed!"

He smiled and reached for the first button. "We shall change that."

Caroline put her hand over his. "Let me do that, will you?"

"Whatever makes you happy, my darling." He smiled at her, standing passively while she dealt with the row of buttons, thinking that his dressmaker had put a lot of hurdles in her way to get to see finally what her husband was hiding under all that fabric. Arriving at the third button over his belly, she now found herself confronted with the challenge of removing his golden watch chain. "How does that work?"

"Let me help you." He threaded the chain out of the button hole, pulled the old-fashioned watch out of the pocket, turned around, placed watch and chain on the little table next to the chair and faced her again. "So – I'm at your disposal once more."

Now with the vest open she fumbled at the buttons of his white dress shirt – only to discover that there was another shirt underneath. With a sigh she looked up in his eyes. "Dear me, Siegfried, undressing you is like skinning an onion!"

"What - every layer makes you feel more like crying?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I don't think so." Caroline kissed him. "I still hope that I'll get to your skin sooner rather than later, though in the moment I'm afraid it will be much later."

"You've already gotten under my skin!" he whispered and pulled her close for another kiss, afterwards whispering in her ear: "You know we could abbreviate this entire business if you would just let me do it."

"No!" Caroline sneaked out of his arms and started to work at the buttons again. "You're mine to unwrap – and from this day on I'll be the only woman who's allowed to undress you!" She'd opened all of the buttons on his shirt and was now looking at his suspenders. "These buttons too?"

"No, that's not necessary." He pushed them down over his shoulders and used that chance to open his cuffs himself. Adding the cufflinks to his watch and chain, he laughed at Caroline. "Darling, suddenly I feel very young again."

"How so?" She pulled the shirt out of his trousers.

"Well, the last time I was undressed like this was around 35 years ago and the woman doing it was my dear, old mother."

Caroline chuckled and pulled him out of his dress shirt. The undershirt he had taken off himself, emerging with his hair slightly tousled. With a boyish grin he pulled her close. "We're finally even!"

Caroline couldn't answer. She'd gotten the first glimpse of his body and found strong muscles under silken, fair skin with just enough red-blond hair on his chest to make him look very masculine. And that hair, pleasantly coarse, was now tickling her breasts as he held her against him.

From the way he was kissing her it was clear that his patience was at its limit with this undressing game. He manoeuvred her towards the bed with Caroline taking the lead. As fascinating and arousing it was to let her hands glide over his naked shoulders and as much as she enjoyed how the muscles in his back worked beneath the warm skin, she wanted and needed more now.

* * *

While many women think of their wedding day as the happiest day of their lives, Caroline Farnon nee Fisher thought the morning after was even better. Waking up next to her husband, Caroline had never before seen Siegfried so relaxed and youthful. He reminded her of the boy he'd once been. On the other hand, she found the stubble on his chin and jaw very manly, as she'd never before seen an unshaved man so close. The slight ache in her thighs was a sweet reminder of the way in which he had proved his manhood to her. It had been glorious! He'd made her feel spoiled and pampered and somehow more aware of her womanhood than she would have thought possible. She'd learned that he wasn't only a master at giving pleasure, but he could also take the pleasure she gave him with grace and devotion. And having him tremble and sweat in her arms and finally cry out her name – she'd felt like a goddess.

He'd awakened then, stretching, turning and smiling at her. "Caroline ..." His voice had still been a bit sleepy, but full of tenderness as he reached for her, pulling her close.

"Siegfried – I love you and I want half a dozen children with you!"

He'd laughed. "But you don't expect me to work on that before breakfast?"

Shoving her hand under his pyjamas top, she stroked his chest. "You prefer breakfast to me?" Playfully she tugged at his chest hair. "Have you already become bored with me?"

"I'll show you bored, wife!" He turned her around, bent down and nipped at her neck, but only for a moment. Then he jumped out of bed, reaching for his dressing gown. "But first I'm going to brush my teeth and have a shave – we can't have this lovely skin of yours becoming scraped by my beard."

t.b.c.

* There are two very important rules for riding in a fox hunt: Never get ahead of the master and his whips (the assistants who help him with the hounds) – they work like a buffer-range between the dogs and the riders, making sure the dogs don't become injured by the horses. The second rule goes for riding among others: Never cross the way of another rider in front of him. It's very difficult to judge another rider's tempo, so cutting his way creates the danger of the two horses crashing into each other.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Crossing the Siegfried line**_

And as always I have to thank Chinoise, my wonderful and very quick beta who's sweated in the summer heat for getting this chapter ready.

_**Chapter 4: The lost way II**_

London, Winter 1949

For their honeymoon, Siegfried and Caroline had gone to Scotland. For two weeks they'd been almost entirely on their own, strolling through the hills, eating in little restaurants and doing some sight-seeing. But most of the time they remained in their room, kissing, cuddling and making love.

Coming back home had been a shock. As the alarm rang at six o'clock on the first morning in their new house Caroline, who'd always liked to sleep in, felt like pulling the blanket over her head – and not only because she was still rather sleepy, but because Siegfried had greeted the upcoming day with a grumble before he'd jumped out of bed and started to bustle around. Caroline had learned very quickly that in the early morning he wasn't at his best - and certainly not interested in kisses and embraces, but in her preparing his breakfast while he shaved and dressed. So because their housekeeper hadn't started yet, Caroline had found herself in the kitchen, fighting with the Aga, burning the toast, forgetting to get the tea leaves out of the pot and discovering that she hadn't ordered milk. Siegfried had just shrugged his shoulders: "I'll get some coffee at Skeldale then" he had said, kissing her on the forehead. And before she'd even gotten a chance to ask him if he'd be back for lunch, she heard the engine of his car as he roared down the driveway.

The next day she'd at managed to make him some coffee, but the toast was burned again so he'd fixed himself some bread and marmalade before running off. However, a few hours later the new housekeeper arrived and started to work, so Caroline no longer needed to worry about feeding her husband. Instead, she' started to work on finally furnishing and decorating the house, which kept her quite busy over the first weeks. There had also been a lot of things she'd needed to arrange with the housekeeper and the gardener. In addition, Siegfried – very busy in the practise – had asked her to oversee the renovation of the stables. After four weeks, the horses – until then housed at Lord Hulton's place – had finally moved in.

Caroline had been very happy upon seeing the quartet in their new stalls at last. There had been Domino, the chestnut gelding she'd bought with Siegfried just after coming back to Yorkshire – and he was indeed a softie with a heart of gold. Next to him, the six year old grey, Heaven's Dancer - her wedding gift to Siegfried - rummaged through his straw. And across from the two boys were Siegfried's old mare, Morning Light, and her little friend, Charmer the pony .

Watching the horses happily munching their hay, Caroline dreamed about galloping over the hills with Siegfried, stopping every now and then for a sweet kiss. She knew how much riding meant to him and she was sure that the horses would connect them even more.

Only there had been a snag: Siegfried did his riding mostly before he went to work – and at five o'clock in the morning Caroline certainly didn't feel like crawling out of bed and going down in the stables to groom and saddle a horse. Even Siegfried's enthusiasm for the joy of riding out in the fresh, crisp air of the morning and what it could do to one's health hadn't convinced Caroline to leave her nice, warm bed at such an ungodly hour.

Even if she had been willing to become an early riser, just three months into the marriage she'd discovered that she was pregnant . As happy as she'd been about it, she'd suffered from morning sickness not only through the first weeks but almost all through her pregnancy.

Not wanting to take a risk, Caroline had given up riding as soon as she'd learned about her pregnancy, so her involvement with the horses was soon restricted to petting them occasionally.

The pregnancy had caused other changes in their living arrangements – and the worst certainly had been Siegfried's moving out of the bedroom they'd shared. Even while sleeping he showed his temper by turning, moving and kicking all through the night. As if this weren't bad enough, Siegfried suffered from a slight cold all through the winter, and he snored loudly. Caroline, who had always been a light sleeper, had no chance of sleeping with him snoring next to him. And there was the ringing phone, which had become Caroline's personal nemesis. To her it felt as if it would always start to ring just as she'd just fallen asleep. And its ringing meant that Siegfried jumped out of bed, stumbled over his slippers, stubbed a toe, cursed loudly, raced through the bedroom on the quest for his clothes, switched all lights on in search of his spectacles and then insisted, "Just sleep, darling, there's no need for you to be awake too!"

She'd put up with that until the third month of her pregnancy, when her doctor told her that she was not only a bit anaemic, but was obviously not getting enough rest. Looking at her, he sighed: "Let me guess: Siegfried snores like a lumber mill in full swing, making it impossible for you to sleep next to him, correct? I'm afraid I can't cure him of that, so you'll have to sleep apart as long as you're pregnant."

Caroline had done so – but she'd missed Siegfried dreadfully. Unfortunately she hadn't only missed him at night, but even more during the daytime. To her it had looked as if Siegfried was never at home. At five in the morning he'd leave for his ride, coming back around half past seven for bathing and changing. Knowing that she'd need her rest, he didn't waken her then, but generally had his breakfast at Skeldale. Usually he'd announce to the housekeeper that he would try to be home for lunch, but Caroline quickly learned not to wait for him. The best he could muster was a phone call to say that he couldn't make it, but he was often in such a hurry he didn't find time to call.

Caroline had tried to be an understanding wife, but she felt neglected, lonely and even jealous. To her it looked as if he cared more about even a hamster than her.

Finally one night it was just too much for her. It was Wednesday and she'd hardly seen Siegfried for more than half an hour since Saturday. On Monday he had just come home for dinner when the phone rang and he – without even getting out of his coat – was off again. When he'd returned, Caroline had still been awake, but he'd been so tired that he'd gone to bed without any further delay. On Thursday he'd only come home to change his clothes – he'd been appointed to give a speech at the farmer's club. At Wednesday Caroline had asked her housekeeper to prepare something special for dinner, had decorated the table with flowers and candles, had called Skeldale and told Helen that she was expecting Siegfried home at half past seven, had dressed in a new frock and brushed her hair until it was shining like silk. At eight she'd called at Skeldale again, already a bit upset. This time she'd gotten Callum Buchanan who'd been astonished to hear her and said, "Siegfried left already half an hour ago. During evening surgery he mentioned that he'd need to be at home punctually, so I thought he'd already be with you."

Thinking that Siegfried was already on his way home, Caroline had told the housekeeper to serve the dinner. Half an hour later Caroline sat in front of slowly cooling lamb chops and the housekeeper was complaining because the soufflé she'd prepared had just collapsed. At nine, Caroline put the cold meal back in the kitchen – she'd lost her appetite now – and extinguished the candles.

When Siegfried finally arrived at a little past ten o'clock, whistling cheerfully, Caroline felt like throttling him. Instead of a kiss he got a furious: "Where the hell have you been?" for a greeting.

Siegfried slipped out of his coat, beamed at her and reached out to pull her close for a kiss – and Caroline noticed that he smelled of beer and smoke. His "Sorry, darling, I forgot to call" wasn't calming her, and not even the compliment "You look ravishing!" improved her disposition.

Stepping back, she looked at him accusingly and repeated her question: "Would you care to tell me where you've been? I called at Skeldale at eight and Callum told me that you had left half an hour earlier. Considering that we're only ten minutes away from your practise, I really wonder – did you take a detour to Scotland?"

"Caroline, I said I'm sorry!" Loosening his tie, Siegfried wandered into the living room. "I met James in the yard and we decided spontaneously to have a beer at the Drover's." Walking over to the sideboard, he got a bottle and two glasses. "Drinkie for you too?"

"In case you've forgotten: I'm pregnant," Caroline said icily. "So I shouldn't drink – though I certainly feel like having one!"

Siegfried poured himself a glass, went to the sofa, slumped down on it and put his feet up. "Caroline, we're very busy at the moment. James and I hadn't gotten a chance to talk in days ..."

"Oh?" Caroline started to pace in front of the fireplace. "I'm very glad you at least managed a talk with your partner."

"Actually James and I didn't talk much. Henry Sutton was at the Drover's too and he's just bought this great new stallion out of the famous Dark Ronald line. His dame is from ..."

Even on good days Caroline wasn't interested in horses' pedigrees, and tonight she didn't want to hear another word about it. Breathing deeply, she interrupted him. "The idea that I could be waiting for you never crossed your mind, did it?" She couldn't stop herself anymore and raised her voice. "You know what, Siegfried Farnon? The longer I'm married to you, the more I wonder why the hell you did marry me. You need a wife about as much as a tortoise needs a bike! Lately I've felt like the landlady of the hotel where you sleep and keep your clothes. Only you'd at least call the landlady if you were not able – or not willing, as the case may be – to be home in time for a meal."

"Caroline!" Now he began to shout too. "You knew that you were marrying a vet! If you can't deal with that..."

"For heaven's sake, Siegfried!" she cried furiously. "Don't try telling me that every vet in this country neglects his wife as much as you do or I'll write a petition to parliament to make the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons a community of monks, sworn to celibacy!" Now Caroline was in full swing, unable to stop herself. "And when we're at it, could you perhaps take off your shoes before putting your feet up on the sofa? Your trust in my ability to deal with odd stains on the furniture and to clean your stinking clothes might flatter Helen Herriot, but as far as I'm concerned I had other expectations about marital bliss!"

He'd gotten up while she'd spoken, had put his glass on the mantelpiece and was now facing her, obviously fighting not to lose control too. "Caroline, I understand you're upset," he started quietly, but then his temper got the better of him. "But for heaven's sake, would you please stop bickering like a fishwife? It's vulgar and it doesn't suit you at all!" he thundered, stormed out of the room and up the stairs.

When she came downstairs the next morning, Siegfried had just returned from his morning ride and was entering the hall. Although Caroline again felt queasy and was still disturbed about their argument, she couldn't help noticing that he looked very handsome in his riding gear. She'd always admired how the beige trousers and the brown boots accentuated his long legs and his slender hips, and despite the uproar in her stomach, she suddenly found herself wishing that she could just pull him up the stairs and into her bed. As infuriating as he was sometimes, she loved and desired him.

He had just gotten out of his boots and now came towards her in his socks, looking rather awkward. "Caroline – how are you?"

"I've been better," she replied with a tired smile. "You know, this morning sickness just might keep me from having those half a dozen babies."

"I'm sorry." For a few seconds he stood scrutinizing her, then took her hand, bowed over it and kissed it. "Caroline, I have to apologize. Shouting at you was out of line. I'm sorry. And I promise that I'll try to be more punctual in the future."

"Siegfried, I understand you're working a demanding job, I really do. But sometimes I feel so lonely." She put her hands on his shoulders. "Could you just take me in your arms?"

"I'd love to, but I'm afraid my smell and your stomach won't go well together." He bent forward and kissed the tip of her nose. "Why don't you return to your warm bed again while I have a shower, and then I'll serve you breakfast in bed?"

"That sounds lovely! Only I don't have much of a breakfast nowadays – just a slice of toast and tea." She stroked his cheek. "Siegfried?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Once again he kissed her hand, but this time he turned it and laid his mouth against the inside of her wrist.

* * *

That evening Siegfried wasn't only home in time for dinner, he even brought her a bunch of beautiful red roses. After dinner they sat together on the sofa, cuddling and kissing – until Siegfried finally complained that his back wasn't up to "necking on the sofa like a teenager" anymore.

"Well, what about kissing in a nice, spacious bed?" she asked.

"Is that an invitation?" he smiled at her.

"Definitely." Caroline's fingers ruffled through his hair.

"Caroline?" Breathing deeply, he pulled her closer. "Listen, my darling: I'd very much like to make love to you. But if you'd rather I just hold and kiss you, that's fine too."

Caroline didn't understand what he was talking about. "Siegfried, I'm your wife!" she reminded him, stroking the back of his neck.

"Yes, Mrs Farnon, I'm aware of that. But I've never liked this odd idea about 'marital duty' some people have. I loathe the thought of making love as an obligation. To know that you want me as much as I want you is very important to me. If I thought that you just put up with me because of some 'marital duty,' it would seem as though I were raping you – and the mere idea of that is revolting to me. And with you being pregnant ..." He didn't finish the line, but only looked at her.

Caroline suddenly had a lump in her throat. Siegfried's thoughtfullness always touched her deeply, and at this moment she believed his consideration for her would make up for every hour she waited for him - every night he was late or forgot to call. On the other hand, his statement wasn't a surprise to her. She had always known that her pleasure was very important to him. "Siegfried, of one thing I'm absolutely sure: being with you will never feel like an obligation," she said and snuggled closer in his embrace. "I'm probably not the first woman telling you that, but you are a marvellous lover."

"Well," he arose and pulled her onto her feet, "you might not be the first, but you are definitely the most important." Kissing her, he led her to the stairs with his arm around her waist. "So, let's hem the baby's ears," he grinned.

"Please, what?"

He laughed. "I was advised to do so by Atkins – you remember the old farmer up on Eryns Fell? He's the father of twelve and definitely an authority in these matters. He keeps asking me when you and I are going to have our first child. Yesterday I told him that we're expecting, and he told me that I shouldn't assume I'd already done my part in this enterprise." Imitating the old farmer's voice he quoted: "It's up to you to hem the ears of the little one now, laddie!"

* * *

Around two hours later Caroline snuggled closer against her husband and put her hand on his naked chest, playing with the hair there as she loved to do. Although she felt as content as a baby with its bottle, she couldn't resist the temptation to let her fingers glide down over his belly to his groin, cupping his spent member. As always when she touched him like that, he made a purring sound and then opened one eye, smiling at her. "Darling, I'm afraid you're overestimating your aging husband."

In lieu of an answer, Caroline bent over him for a kiss. Only one minute before she had been totally sated, and despite his words his body was already reacting to her again. His shaft was growing under her tender ministrations, as was her desire for him.

"Are we a bit insatiable tonight?" he asked, turning and kissing her neck.

"No, we aren't," Caroline chuckled. "I just think you wouldn't want your firstborn to have only one ear properly hemmed."

* * *

At this time they'd been able to overcome their difficulties with love and laughter, but even then Caroline had already been aware that Siegfried wasn't an ideal husband – at least not for her. He had loved her then – of that she had no doubt. But he'd loved his work too and probably even more than he loved her. Perhaps he had remained a bachelor too long. Caroline had found that he was totally set in his ways, and much too used to his independence. She'd realized that it hadn't been due to any animosity on Siegfried's part, but nevertheless it had upset her that he'd so often forget to phone her when he was detained. She'd learned about the striking contrasts in his character – while Siegfried was an extrovert, at the same time he was also a very reserved man who often bottled up his feelings. And she didn't always feel able to deal with his being so contradictory. He might make a firm stand for something on Monday, then on Tuesday he did just the opposite – obviously not even aware of how confusing this sometimes was for his wife.

James Herriot had once stated that in Siegfried's universe opposites were the rule and not the exception*. His attention span was sometimes shorter than that of the average toddler's – but all Caroline had to do was to hope that he wouldn't look too closely at something, and he was after it like Lord Hulton's pack after the fox. The same went for his memory: Whatever Caroline wanted him to remember, he seemed to forget as quickly as she could tell him. But if there was something she wanted him to forget, she could be sure that he'd keep at it like a dog at his favourite bone. This forgetful streak of Siegfried's meant that he could never find things. He was always on the hunt for his spectacles, his car keys, his watch or whatever – and he often blamed the housekeeper or Caroline when he couldn't find something: "You're always misplacing my things! I'm sure I put my spectacles on the mantelpiece, but there aren't there anymore!" And while he was always after Callum because of "the mess he leaves everywhere," he himself was far of being the epitome of neatness. Just the opposite: Caroline's housekeeper used to say that the chaos Siegfried left in his bedroom always reminded her of the bomb attack she'd gone through during the war.

All of that would have been enough to make it difficult to live with him, but he added to the pile with his work and his way of putting it before everything else. Caroline couldn't help it – she didn't understand why the paperwork in the practise was obviously more important to him than spending time with her. The longer she was married to him, the more she resented his job.

It wasn't only that she disliked his job. She developed a distinct dislike of Skeldale and everything connected with it, including her brother-in-law, though Tristan didn't actually live at Skeldale anymore. Despite being a qualified vet, he still seemed to hang around at Skeldale all the time – except when he was out making a fool of himself. And whenever he got in trouble, he expected his older brother to bail him out. There was the tough farmer who was after Tristan like a Sicilian on a blood feud, because the younger Farnon had trifled with his daughter's affection – and it was of course Siegfried who talked to man, plied him with enough whiskey to get a bull blotto and finally calmed him down. Two weeks later, Tristan landed himself in jail for being "drunk and disorderly" – so the police said. Wee Trissi of course felt completely innocent: "I only told the patrolman that he needn't act so foolish! It was only a bit after midnight, so why didn't he have to make such a fuss about my friends and me having another beer?" Nevertheless he had needed Siegfried to get him out of jail. Tristan obviously never gave a thought to the fact that his older brother had a family of his own now – when he needed him, he called for him. The idea that Caroline might want a bit of her husband's attention never seemed to cross his mind.

And there were the Herriots – nice people, without a doubt, but in a way no less annoying than Tristan. Of course, Caroline saw that the hard-working, kind-hearted James was probably the best partner and friend her hot-tempered, impatient and erratic husband could have acquired. As far as that was concerned, Caroline had no reason to complain. But the oh-so-perfect, wonderful, infallible Helen Herriot was another kettle of fish. Siegfried saw her as the cat's whiskers, the paragon of female virtue, the perfect wife and mother. And Siegfried being Siegfried, he rarely let an opportunity slip to sing Helen's praise. Helen here, Helen there, Helen this, Helen that – and whatever Caroline did, Helen had already been there, done it and of course she'd done it better than Caroline ever could. Helen wasn't only a champion in the kitchen, but knew all about gardening and how to hold a piglet for castration – Caroline shuddered just thinking of it! Helen could probably have done half of the lambing on her own. Helen was obviously a miracle-worker in the Skeldale office.

Caroline tried – she really did. When lambing season started and Skeldale became even more of a madhouse than usual, Caroline volunteered to take over as receptionist. For one entire day she ran from the entrance door to the waiting room door and from there to the phone and back to the entrance door, but despite trying as hard as she could, she failed. Helen was a farmer's daughter who'd grown up in the area. She probably knew the name of every sheep grazing in the dales and spoke the Yorkshire dialect herself. In contrast, Caroline didn't stand a chance with her husband's clients. The first one she spoke with on the phone sounded as though he didn't even speak English, because she hardly understood a word of his thick dialect. To her, the man's language sounded like a mixture of Gaelic and a sore throat. And what, for heaven's sake, did he mean by "Heifer's foot stinks"? In her opinion all cows stank –not just their feet, but all over!

The next one was even worse. Yorkshire dialect spoken very fast, and a bad phone line. Caroline started to sweat and asked him if he could please repeat what he'd just said, "clearly and slowly"? The answer she unfortunately understood: The farmer bellowed into the phone: "Are you daft, woman?"

The third phone call was from a woman who spoke understandable English, but firmly insisted upon speaking with the "charming Mr Farnon" and only to him. Caroline told her that Mr Farnon wasn't in. "If you'll tell me what you need him for, I'll write a note."

But this suggestion wasn't good enough for the lady. "But I always talk to Mr Farnon himself! He's such a wonderful man" – here the woman lowered her voice to almost a whisper - "and he's terribly attractive, you know!"

"Yes, I do. I'm Mrs Farnon", Caroline deadpanned. "What message am I to give my husband?" She had to bite her tongue to keep from adding, "other than telling him that you find him terribly attractive?".

She'd hardly written the message – Siegfried's admirer had a sick dog – before the doorbell rang again. Dashing to the door she found a man sitting on the stairs holding a beer bottle to his face as if it were the receiver of a phone. He was speaking into it: "Pig's sweating like a pig!" He obviously found this line so funny that he almost keeled over with laughter. And although Caroline tried for almost 10 minutes, she couldn't get the man to tell her who he was or where he lived. Finally she wrote a note, saying "Sweating pig – drunk farmer using beer bottle like a phone sitting in front of our door."

Then the telephone rang again and Caroline once more was showered with a splash of Yorkshire English at its finest. Sighing inwardly she asked again: "Could you please repeat that for me clearly and slowly?" This time the answer was even worse than with the man who'd wondered if she were daft. This one started to tell her off for wasting his time and phone charges at great length and detail, obviously unaware that in the time it took for him to complete his tirade, he might as well have repeated slowly and clearly what he'd said earlier.

Lunch time came, and with it Siegfried and James. Exhausted but proud, Caroline presented the long list of calls she'd taken. Fortunately the man with the beer bottle phone wasn't a problem; as Siegfried read his entry on the list, he laughed and knew immediately who the man had been and where he could find the sweating pig. Nevertheless, he wasn't satisfied with her efforts. Furrowing his brow he told her that just entering the calls chronologically on the list wouldn't do. "Helen always makes two lists – one for James and one for me."

"And how am I to know which is James' client and which is yours?" Caroline asked.

"Just look it up in the register! It's on my desk in the surgery," Siegfried replied, got up and fetched a notepad. Sighing he looked at James. "We need to get this mess in the right order!"

Caroline felt like throttling him. She'd worked hard to get the 101 little notes she'd taken into a proper list – and now her loving husband called the product of her diligence "a mess!" "Thanks for appreciating my efforts!" she snorted.

Siegfried took off his spectacles and looked at her with his "I'm surrounded by idiots, but l'm a patient man" expression she'd learned to hate. "Dearest," he started, sounding as if he'd talk to a small and rather daft child, "just try to imagine us doing our rounds. Do you think it would be smart if I first drove South to Pemperbroke's place, then North to Miller and afterwards back South to Heavers? It wouldn't only waste a lot of time, but a lot of fuel as well. That's the reason James and I require our lists to be sorted so we won't drive the same way more than once on our rounds."

Caroline balled her fists to keep from having a go at his throat. "And how," she asked, almost trembling with fury, "am I supposed to know where your clients' live? I'm terribly sorry, but I really don't know every shabby shed around here!"

James, as always the one sensing that someone was close to losing it, patted her hand. "No one expects you to, Caroline. It's no problem – we'll sort it all out!"

But Siegfried's was feeling no sympathy for Caroline. Looking at her over the rim of his spectacles, he explained sweetly, "Darling, we have something called a 'map' in the office. I suppose you know how to handle such a thing?"

It was only James' presence that prevented Caroline from snatching her list, scrunching it into a ball and cramming it down Siegfried's throat. Instead she sent him a death glare, got up and stalked out the door to the phone - which was already ringing again. Turing around in the doorway, she looked at Siegfried, who was already writing his list down on the inside of his left wrist. "You should really hire a secretary," she stated. "And the best place for you to get one would be a Catholic church. They still have saints, you know!"

Unfortunately, this hadn't been the end of Caroline's attempt to help out. As Siegfried came back from his afternoon rounds a few hours later, she learned that she'd gotten one name wrong, resulting in his driving "half through Yorkshire only to learn that I had the wrong name!" He had yet another cold and hadn't had a proper sleep for several nights because of the lambing, so he wasn't at his best - and it wasn't surprising that he accused Caroline of being someone "who obviously isn't even able to deal with a few simple phone calls." It had led to a row that surpassed every previous argument in the history of the couple's stormy relationship. At the end, Caroline had told her husband that she would never again lift a finger to help him out, not even if Skeldale were on fire

This time she hadn't gotten an apology from him for yelling at her; he'd simply forgotten it in the hustle and bustle of lambing. However, coming home after an absence of nearly three days, he'd grandly complimented Helen about what a great help she had been the previous night – and this had made Caroline once again consider choking her husband. Fortunately, instead of killing Siegfried she'd just thrown a bowl of soup on the floor, yelling: "Why, for heaven's sake, didn't you marry the oh-so-perfect Helen Herriot instead of someone as useless as I am?" Storming up the stairs, she'd fallen on her bed, sobbing in frustration and fury.

Siegfried came after her. Leaning on the mantel in their bedroom, he shook his head and told her that he really didn't understand her "silly jealousy" about Helen. "You're childish, Caroline. No one expects you to compete with her."

He couldn't have said anything worse. Caroline jumped up like a jack-in-the-box. "So now I'm the spoiled princess who can't compare to your precious Helen, the epitome of all womanly virtues!"

Now he was angry too, his cheeks reddening and his eyes becoming small. "Your words, not mine!" he snorted.

Caroline placed herself in front of him – and yes, for once she was glad that she was even a bit taller than he because she could look in his eyes even without her shoes. "Too bad," she sneered, "that for once in his life James was one step ahead of you, Siegfried. I mean, except for her fondness for really ugly aprons and even uglier hats, Helen would have been the perfect wife for you! She would have cooked five meals for you every day and between cooking and mending your socks she'd have dusted off the pedestal she's set you on. Still, considering her prudishness I suppose she wears flannel night shirts with little flowers on them in bed, and only does her marital duty on Wednesdays and Saturdays between nine and ten o'clock with the lights out. That certainly wouldn't please you, my darling."

"That was petty and tasteless, Caroline!" Siegfried thundered. "I hate to repeat myself, but as I told you before - and now, hopefully, for the last time - bickering like a fishwife doesn't suit you at all! Helen is a good woman and a great friend of mine. I won't listen to you badmouthing her out of your absolute idiotic, unfounded jealousy. It's neither Helen's nor my problem that you obviously feel inferior to her!"

"I feel inferior to Helen Herriot?" Caroline found herself regretting that she'd thrown the soup bowl on the floor instead of on his head. "You're obviously forgetting to whom you're speaking, Siegfried Farnon!"

"Oh no, I don't! I'm certainly not about to forget that I'm having a very civil conversation with the Honourable Caroline Farnon neé Fisher. I'm beginning to wonder if the heaps of money your father paid for your education weren't a wee bit wasted!"

His sarcasm was the last straw. Breathing deeply, she looked at him and said flatly, "I think it's better that you leave now before I do or say something I may regret later. There's no sense having a debate with you – you don't want to understand!"

Laying his hand on his heart, Siegfried bowed in a mocking gesture. "As always, your wish is my command, my lady. With your graceful permission I'll take my leave now." With three quick steps he was through the door, closing it with a bang and storming down the stairs. Just a moment later she heard the engine of his car in the driveway – he was gone and didn't return until the following evening.

* * *

However, he'd apologized then and so had Caroline. Nevertheless, the argument had made her think. She'd tried to fit into his life and had failed. There wasn't a place for her at Skeldale or even in their own home, just sitting around all day, waiting for Siegfried. And as much as she loved spending time with their son, Tim was still just an infant who needed a lot of rest. He really wasn't much company for her.

To Caroline, it looked as if there were only one solution: To build a life of her own again, doing the things she'd always enjoyed and was good at. And so she'd called her father, suggesting that she once more help him with his social obligations. He'd been delighted – Catherine had three children by that time and therefore couldn't see as much of her father, while Cassandra still loved horses better than human beings – so Caroline finally felt as if she'd found her place. Entertaining guests and accompanying her father had certainly been better than hanging around at home like a withering hydrangea waiting to be watered. The appreciation and praise she'd received from her father had made her home life easier too. Siegfried had no reason to complain about her "bickering" anymore and sometimes even seemed to enjoy going out with her. However, he was still a vet first and foremost, so now and then their evenings had been complicated and they had to coordinate their schedules for being together. They sometimes only managed to have an evening together once a fortnight. And as far as their love life had been concerned, well, that had become a case of "ships passing in the night" - and those passings were pleasant and still passionate. Only the two ships had obviously travelled on rather different routes, making their pleasant and still passionate meetings far too infrequent.

The longer Caroline had lived like that, the more she'd resigned herself. There was no longer any sense in denying that their marriage wasn't what she had envisioned, or that the strongest connection between them was their son. Somewhere along the way Siegfried seemed to have lost his love for her, and there were moments when she wondered if he regretted having married her. Worse, sometimes she even wondered if he was still faithful to her. There were tiny things which had irritated her – like the time Siegfried grew a moustache. She hadn't like it and said so, but Siegfried had only stroked it and replied: "I felt like a change – and for the moment I like it!" Or had there been someone else who'd liked the moustache? She didn't know. Even during good times she'd never felt able to see through her husband, but now she felt like living with a stranger with whom she casually shared a son and sometimes a bed.

She'd been sad and in a way she even mourned, but on the other hand she'd felt too drained to care. She'd lost Siegfried and she wouldn't even have known how to fight to get him back. But her upbringing had at least taught her to keep a stiff under lip and to show the world a smiling face even when she felt lousy.

Of course, there had been Richard – still a bachelor and obviously still in love with her. His father had died, leaving him the estate, and his younger brother had joined the guards and was in Germany, so he'd been on his own. His estate required little work on his part because his father had left him with a very good, experienced steward. Richard had always had time for Caroline. He'd ridden out with her; he'd accompanied her on shopping trips to Leeds and York; he'd even waited patiently for hours whenever she was at her tailors. And being with him had been blissfully uncomplicated. He'd never criticised her, but had always showed her nothing but admiration; he'd never challenged her and never put hurdles in her way, but brought her flowers and her favourite chocolate and never missed a chance to compliment her.

He'd made her feel appreciated and loved again and so it was hardly surprising when it happened. First she'd only given him a peek on the cheek now and then, but somehow that had changed to an embrace and a kiss on the mouth and then, one night he'd driven her home after a party with friends, and upon arriving they'd noticed that the house was entirely dark and Siegfried's car wasn't in the garage.

Normally they didn't speak about Siegfried – Caroline had always avoided the subject and Richard definitely wasn't keen on it either. But now he looked at her, his brows furrowed. "Where's your husband? Isn't he normally home at this time?"

Caroline shrugged her shoulders. "We're talking about Siegfried!" she said. "With him, you can never count on 'normal'."

"You don't know where he is?" Richard shook his head in surprise.

"I don't have the slightest clue. Perhaps he's on night duty at Skeldale or playing chess with the Herriots or dealing with a calving. How should I know?" She'd tried to sound casual, but obviously not with much success.

"He neglects you badly!" Richard stated heatedly. Pulling her in his arms, he whispered: "He doesn't deserve you! Not at all! If you were my wife ..."

"I'm not, Richard! I'm Mrs Farnon ..."

"Only Mr Farnon doesn't know how to appreciate you! He doesn't love you – at least not as much as I love you!" He kissed her – and this time it wasn't a sweet little kiss, but a passionate, open-mouthed one and somehow Caroline didn't feel like resisting, but simply closed her eyes and enjoyed it.

* * *

A few days later Caroline once found herself sitting in front of a laid table with candles and flowers. And there had been a wonderfully smelling roast duck with carrots and Brussels sprouts and potatoes with a whiff of rosemary just like Siegfried loved them, but unfortunately her husband hadn't been there. He'd obviously forgotten her 30th birthday and so Caroline had once again ordered her housekeeper to clear the table, had poured herself a big brandy and considered her options. She certainly hadn't felt like staying at home, waiting for Siegfried to show up, and so - glass in hand - she'd gone to the phone and called Richard. He had remembered her birthday – he'd already sent a big bunch of roses over that morning. Now hearing her on the phone, he exclaimed delightedly, "How nice of you to call! How do you feel as a 30 year old?"

Laughing, Caroline had replied: "Like drinking a glass of champagne with a friend. Do you think you can find a bottle at your place?"

Three glasses of champagne later - on an empty stomach, as Siegfried's letting her down had spoiled her appetite –Caroline found herself in Richard's arms, enjoying his kisses and thrilling at his touch. Another two glasses later he carried her up the stairs and into bed, and though he certainly couldn't play in Siegfried's league when it came to making love, his happiness at having her here made up for that.

Caroline had not intended to carry on with the affair after their first night together, but somehow it had happened –primarily because she hadn't wanted to hurt Richard, who was so obviously in love with her and who asked her at least twice a week to leave Siegfried and to marry him.

Caroline hadn't once considered this option. Even though Siegfried obviously didn't love her anymore, there was Tim to think of, and despite all his faults as a husband, Siegfried had always been a wonderful father. Caroline knew that he loved Timothy with all his heart and she'd also known that Tim adored his father and looked upon him as his hero. To separate Timothy and Siegfried would have been cruel, and as unhappy though she'd been in her marriage, Caroline was determined to remain in it as long as Tim needed both of his parents.

But then Tristan had appeared, telling her that he knew about her affair and that he would inform Siegfried if she didn't do so herself. In a state of shock and sheer panic Caroline had run away and made Richard to take her on a journey to France. He'd liked that – he'd definitely believed then that she would divorce Siegfried now and marry him. Richard had already planned how his lawyers would work out the divorce with Siegfried's attorneys and "until you're free we'll live in Europe, perhaps in Nice or near Paris – there no one bothers about one's marital state. As soon as the divorce is final, we'll marry - and then, after a year or so, after the gossip has died down, we'll go back home."

"And what about my son?" Caroline had asked. "I miss him dreadfully already!"

"Darling, you'll get to see him soon," Richard had assured her. "As soon as we've found a house, I'm sure Siegfried will send him to you. I mean what he would want with a two-year-old? He works all day and half the night. He doesn't have time for the boy, so he'll be glad when you can look after him again."

Caroline had shaken her head. "I'd bet that Helen Herriot is already looking after our son. With her maternal instincts, she'll enjoy it. And knowing Siegfried and his fondness for Madame Herriot, I'm sure he thinks she looks after Timothy much better than I could, so there's no way he'd ever let me have him. And as the plaintiff in the divorce, I might not be seen by the judges as fit to bring up my son. I'm doomed – I can only hope that Siegfried's generosity and his love for Tim allow me to see my son again."

Richard had looked at her. "But Caroline, Siegfried should at least be gentleman enough to take the blame for the divorce! And if he isn't, my solicitors will certainly find a reason to make him the guilty party! I mean, everyone in Darrowby knows that he can't keep his trousers up around pretty women."

Caroline had looked at him as if she'd see him for the first time. "Richard, are you completely out of your mind? Even if it meant gaining custody of Tim, I would never try to put the blame for something I've done on Siegfried! How could I ever look my son in the eye after doing something like that to his father? And furthermore, Richard, I dislike the way you talk about my husband! If you're not willing to respect him for who he is, you should at least be aware that I'm still very much connected to him, and you should respect that!"

This argument had only been one glimpse of what she'd actually already known before she had run away with Richard: She didn't love him. She had been fond of him but she certainly hadn't loved him, and the thought of spending the rest of her life with him hadn't appealed to her in the least. She had probably broken a record: She'd managed to leave two men in only two weeks. After only 10 days on the French Riviera she'd told Richard, "I'm sorry, I really am, but I've made a horrible mistake in coming with you. I can't life with you and therefore it's better I leave now."

However, as much as she'd wanted to go home, she hadn't dared. Instead, she'd travelled to London where she and her sister owned a little house on a quiet side street in Belgravia. She'd arrived seven days earlier and had phoned her sister then. Since moving in with her sister, she'd waited for something to happen – perhaps Siegfried's solicitor sending her a letter announcing he'd filed for divorce, or her sister kicking her out of her stupor, or a good fairy coming around and granting her three wishes.

Her first wish would have been to make the last few months disappear completely.

t.b.c.

* I have to confess that I've stolen this line from Toxophilate. If you don't know her ACGAS fics – go and read them! They're champion!


	5. Chapter 5

_**Crossing the Siegfried line**_

AN: Sorry for the long delay since the last update. My beta-reader and I suffered from the summer heath. ;-)

Disclamers see chapter 1.

Chapter 5: In good days and bad days …

Siegfried Farnon had a lot of experience with feeling tired. It came automatically with his work – animals became sick both day and night and therefore needed their vet to be ready both day and night as well. When Siegfried thought of his first years in Darrowby he sometimes wondered how he'd made it through all the night calls, often working almost around the clock without breaking down. Back then he had been young and full of enthusiasm, ambition and hope. He hadn't minded the hard work. Even when he'd felt exhausted, a few hours of sleep had been enough to make him feel fit again.

Now he sometimes felt as if even sleeping through a fortnight wouldn't be enough to cure him of his exhaustion. The last few days he'd gone to bed feeling utterly drained, and he awoke in the same state. Never had it cost him so much effort to kick himself out of bed in the morning. If it hadn't been for his son, there were some mornings when he would have gladly pulled the blanket over his ears and gone back to sleep instead of facing another day full of tiresome clients, endless work and the worried looks of the people dearest and nearest to him.

It was now 22 days since he'd come home to find the housekeeper in tears, the nanny in a state of utter disgust, his wife's bedroom in shambles with every closet door open and piles of clothes on the floor and a hastily scribbled note on his desk which said, "_Siegfried, I'm gone. I'm terribly sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. Tristan knows what happened. Caroline. PS: You probably won't believe me, but I do love you_."

Finding Tristan that day had been rather difficult. Siegfried had first called his flat, then Skeldale and four of the pubs his brother loved to frequent. Then, because he'd finally run out of ideas, he had driven over to the Herriots - where he'd met his younger brother sitting in the kitchen over a cup of tea, looking as if his favourite brewery had just announced they were banishing beer and serving only raspberry juice in the future. When he saw Siegfried, he'd twitched and swallowed nervously. Siegfried had just put Caroline's crumpled, tear-stained note in front of him without saying a word. For a moment Tristan read it, then got up, his shoulders slumped and his face sad. Looking at Helen who'd been doing the laundry, he said to her, "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse both of us." Putting his hand on Siegfried's shoulder in a rare gesture of familiarity, he led him out of the house and up the hill. Only after they were far out of hearing range did Tristan speak: "I'm terribly sorry, Siegfried, but I'm afraid it was I who drove Caroline away."

"What the hell have you done to my wife?" Siegfried thundered at him accusingly.

"I've tried to do the right thing," Tristan answered and then told the entire story.

Siegfried was no fool. He'd of course known that his marriage was in trouble. Nevertheless he'd been shocked to hear about Caroline's affair. He'd never thought of her cheating on him because he had trusted her completely. The tale Tristan told him had made him furious, disappointed and deeply hurt, but even then there had been a little voice in the back of his mind, saying, "You shouldn't be surprised - you're an absolute failure as a husband!"

In a way, Caroline's betrayal had confirmed his old doubts about his own abilities as a husband. It was quite ironic – and intelligent as he was, he'd always seen it – that he, who'd always liked women and had been immensely liked by them, obviously wasn't able to keep one for the long run.

He'd just been 16 years old, a small lad who'd just gotten his first long trousers, when he'd discovered the secrets of winning women over. Charming them was not too hard a task for Siegfried; it came to him naturally because he really adored them and was therefore able to find something complimentary in almost every woman; amusing them, because he was graced with eloquence and a quick wit. And, probably the most important of all, listening to them. And as impatient as he'd always been with his fellow men, he'd never found it difficult to show a genuine interest in women and what they had to say. He'd always been fascinated by the members of the other gender and he'd loved learning more about them.

By always paying attention to women, he had gained their affections – and at 18, an age when other boys had struggled to persuade their girlfriends to let them have one look at their breasts, young Siegfried had already found himself a teacher in the art of love. A young and passionate widow of an older officer – a friend of his mother - had taken on the pleasurable task of educating Siegfried in everything a man needed to know about satisfying a woman in the bedroom.

From then on he'd rarely ever been without a lover. Even as a poor student in shabby clothes he'd never found it hard to find women who were interested in him. And when he'd finally qualified, he'd immediately ascended from the league of exciting lovers to the rank of very eligible bachelors.

Soon after, Siegfried learned another valuable lesson: Discretion and exclusivity. While working in the horse hospital at the New Market race course he'd once confused one love interest with another. Unfortunately, one of them had been married to one of the higher-ups in the racing club – and her vociferous fight over the vet with a pretty horse owner on the stands of the racing ground had resulted in quite a scandal. As a result, the lady's disgruntled husband had not only wanted Siegfried's head on a platter, but Siegfried's privates as well. And if Siegfried's boss had not stepped into the breach on behalf of his most appreciated – and appreciative – employee, the affair would probably have cost Siegfried his job. That said, however, the director of the veterinary hospital made it pretty clear to his youngest assistant that he would kick Siegfried's "sorry arse" from New Market up to the Outer Hebrides if he ever become involved in something like that again.

Upon arriving in Darrowby, Siegfried had been acutely aware that when living in a little village he had to keep to certain standards. Of course, his farming clients were all familiar with the facts of life and while they certainly wouldn't begrudge their young vet a bit of fun, they were also God-fearing church-goers.

Siegfried had been smart enough to watch out for his reputation what had meant being discrete and carefully keeping away from his client's wives and daughters. Besides, there had been his housekeeper, Mrs Hall, a reputable widow with strong moral values who had first been reluctant to work for a bachelor. Before starting her employment at Skeldale, she'd made clear that she wouldn't deal with any "indecent behaviour." And Siegfried, who'd quickly become addicted to her superb cooking, had made sure that his private life never offended Mrs Hall's delicate nature. With the practise quickly flourishing, it hadn't been much of a problem for him:. He'd rented a nice little flat in Brawton where people didn't care as much about their neighbour's comings and goings as in Darrowby, and whenever he'd felt like spending some time with one of his lady friends, he'd simply told Mrs Hall that he was off to visit his mother. And with his mother being a former opera singer, Mrs Hall obviously hadn't wondered about her employer often only coming home in the small hours. In Mrs Hall's book, artists were people who usually slept through the days after spending their nights celebrating at parties.

Siegfried's legendary charm had even worked on Mrs Hall. After a few months working for him, she had fully understood that he needed a bit of female company now and then. She definitely hadn't minded the ongoing stream of young ladies, mostly of good families, calling at Skeldale. Whenever one of the town gossips had approached her about it, she'd immediately gone into defence mode, telling the people that somebody working as hard as "her" Mr Farnon deserved to invite a nice, young lady for a glass of sherry or a cup of tea now and then.

Nevertheless, Mrs Hall had more than once told Siegfried that in her opinion it was time for him to settle down. However, she hadn't been happy with his first choice - Caroline. Although Caroline had been her most charming self around Mrs Hall, the old housekeeper had remained reserved and rather cold towards her.

Siegfried had discounted her behaviour as a kind of jealousy – the usual dislike of an older woman about sharing the household she was running with a younger one. Yet when James brought Helen into the household, Siegfried discovered that it wasn't a case of Mrs Hall not wanting to share her house per se. Just on the contrary: She developed an almost motherly affection for Helen, and the kitchen where they worked together had always been filled with warmth and laughter.

And there had been another woman Mrs Hall had immediately accepted: Marjorie. She'd taken the old housekeeper by storm – and won over every other member of the household too.

Marjorie had only once been at Skeldale for tea, and after ten minutes Siegfried had been called away. There was a badly injured cat at the surgery and James needed a helping hand. As Siegfried came out of the surgery an hour later, he'd found the living room deserted. But he heard laughter from the kitchen, and upon entering, he'd found Mrs Hall, Helen and Marjorie hard at work. Marjorie was peeling onions while Mrs Hall kneaded bread dough and Helen prepared the carrots. Smiling at him, Marjorie had said, "I've become a bit bored, so I decided to join the ladies in the kitchen and make myself useful."

Marjorie stayed for dinner that night – and she even managed to make James - who normally was rather shy and tense around Siegfried's female acquaintances - laugh and chat happily with her. As far as her fitting into Siegfried's Skeldale family, Marjorie would have made the ideal wife for him. There had only been one problem: Although he'd been very much in love with Marjorie, Siegfried was reluctant to ask the famous question – and in this case it hadn't only been his usual doubts, but also the war. He'd thought it unfair of him to marry a woman, knowing that he'd have to leave her soon. And what if she had become pregnant? To leave a wife and a small child at home in England would have been unthinkable for him. Siegfried had grown up with a mostly absent father and had missed him terribly. Therefore he determined to be present in the life of his wife and children.

At any rate, there simply hadn't been enough time. He'd met Marjorie, fallen in love with her – and then their story had come to a halt for almost three weeks because Siegfried was not accustomed to feeling so deeply for a woman. He was extremely impressed by her pleasant, outgoing personality and, uncharacteristically, had not dared to approach her. With Marjorie he'd felt as shy as a schoolboy wooing his first love. And he'd respected her far too much to go through his usual courtship routine with her.

But then, one beautiful, golden October morning, they'd stood on a hill after a wonderful gallop, looking out at the familiar, beloved landscape. Marjorie had told him then that she'd be spending the winter in London, and Siegfried, sad and disappointed about her upcoming departure, had said: "I suppose simple country pleasure do pale, don't they?"

Marjorie had looked up at him, a tender smile playing around her mouth: "That depends on whom we share them with," she'd said. There had been a challenge in her tone and in her smile, and he'd finally found the courage to bend towards her and kiss her.

"I've been wanting to do that for some time!" he'd told her afterwards and gotten a smile back.

"I've been wondering why you hadn't!" She'd sounded almost amused.

"Well, you ARE my client …" He'd known himself how stupid this excuse sounded – but he could hardly have told her that he'd been too shy, could he? So he'd just kissed her again, and then - feeling so happy that he could have embraced the entire world - he'd kissed her mare's soft muzzle too. What was good enough for his clients was good enough for his patients, wasn't it?

They'd had only two days for this first part of their romance. Then Marjorie had gone and Siegfried began counting the days through a long, cold and lonely winter until she would come back to him. Feeling serious about Marjorie, he'd given up his flat in Brawton and spent most of his free nights at home, playing cards with the Herriots or reading. Only now and then he'd gone over to the Drover's for a beer, but he abstained completely from flirting. He hadn't even missed it – he'd been much too occupied by thinking and dreaming about Marjorie to notice other women.

When Marjorie's friend told him then that she had become engaged to another man, he'd felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. For days - and especially during long, sleepless nights - he'd cursed himself for not declaring his feelings to her, for not making sure that she had known of his hopes and dreams and for not showering her with letters and flowers. Couldn't he have taken two days' leave for a visit in London? The travelling would have been a bother, but to see Marjorie, for just one hour with her, it would have been worth it. Heavens, he'd been such a fool! How could he have believed that a woman as beautiful as she would just sit in London, pining for an aging country vet in the backwaters of Yorkshire? How could he have believed that there wouldn't be other men, handsome, young, rich men courting her? He'd already felt depressed about the war before he'd met Marjorie and now, after losing her to this other man, he was in desperation.

Somehow he managed to work himself out of the hole he'd fallen in. Somehow he managed to convince himself that life had to go on, that some day it wouldn't hurt as much as it did now. His work had become his saviour: the deep satisfaction he still felt when he'd been able to help an animal in distress, the pride when he'd made it through a difficult operation, the joy when one of his patients had once more been able to enjoy life. And there had been his friends – kind-hearted James, who'd been at his side during the days of distress, quietly taking over the early morning calls when Siegfried had once again just fallen asleep in the early hours after a restless night, or keeping him company when Siegfried sat in front of the fireplace, brooding over a glass of whiskey. There had been Mrs Hall, who would have swallowed her tongue rather than say anything about her employer's blue mood, but who had spoiled him by serving his favourite dishes, not once complaining when he only picked at them. Even Tristan had refrained from baiting him at every opportunity, but behaved as if his older brother had suddenly become fragile.

And Helen, lovely, wonderful Helen! Five days after he'd learned about Marjorie's engagement he'd sat on the sofa in the middle of the night, watching the dying flames in the fireplace and starring into his scotch. James had been out on a night call and he'd thought Helen was already in bed when she'd quietly entered, wearing a green dressing gown and slippers. Without saying a word, she'd taken the scotch out of his hand and given him a mug with hot cocoa. Then she'd sat down on the wing of the sofa and asked, "What's troubling you so much, Siegfried?"

It only took three words: "Marjorie is engaged." Helen asked neither how he'd learned nor when, but had simply hugged him. And as he'd started to cry, she'd pulled his head on her shoulder, stroking the back of it like a mother comforting her troubled child.

Siegfried certainly hadn't been used to showing his emotions like that, and it had drained him. Although the crying had resulted in a splitting headache, he'd felt better afterwards. The next day he'd bought a big bunch of yellow roses for Helen and she'd smiled at him, put her hand on his cheek and only said, "Dear Siegfried!"

Finally spring had come. The lilacs in the garden had bloomed and he even felt able to enjoy his little battles with Tristan again. Then, just as Siegfried was in the middle of sparring with his younger brother, the phone rang and Mrs Hall announced, "There's a Miss Edgerton for you, Mr Farnon."

For a moment Siegfried felt as if his knees had become jelly. A part of him rejoiced in knowing that he'd hear her voice again, while another part of him feared talking to her. As he finally picked up the receiver, his heart pounded almost painfully. Hearing her smoky alto again made him positively dizzy. "I think we need to talk, Siegfried." She wanted to see him!

All night he lay awake in hope and trepidation –more trepidation than hope - and when he finally arrived at her house, Siegfried wished he hadn't agreed to come because he was absolutely sure that the conversation they were to have would only rip off the old wound and make him miserable again.

Siegfried had been incredibly happy to get a second chance with Marjorie and though they were once again on borrowed time, he made sure to tell her how he felt and what she meant to him. The two weeks they shared together had been among the best times in his life. With Marjorie, everything had been so easy! She seemed to understand exactly how he felt, and he felt as if he hade known her all his life. She managed to make his fears and doubts vanish and to fill his heart with joy and hope once more.

Even after she departed again he'd been happy, living in the firm conviction that he'd finally found his ideal woman, the one with whom he would grow old.

This hope had been what enabled him to make it through the utter desperation of fighting in the war. He'd dreamed almost fanatically about Marjorie while lying on his small, hard bed in the camp, knowing that in a few hours he'd be in his plane again, delivering death and destruction. As little as he had thought about the personal risk he was going through on every mission, the thought of the destruction contained within the bombs his plane carried made him totally miserable. At first it hadn't been too bad. He'd done night flights targeting industrial complexes and he'd always been able to comfort himself with the thought that he was only destroying empty buildings, hindering the enemy's ability to build more weapons that might be used against his country. But then the Germans had started to bomb English towns and the allies had changed their tactics as well. The English pilots were now attacking German cities nearly every night, and Siegfried had seen how the sky became red with the fires burning on the ground where bombs had hit. It didn't take much imagination to know what had happened there, in the German streets after the bombs had fallen. In his dreams, Siegfried had seen women and children running for cover; he'd heard the screaming and crying; he'd smelled fire and death. In contrast to the younger pilots who simply said, "They're Germans, they're Nazis, they deserve what they get!" Siegfried had known only too well that most of these Germans had never shared their Führer's megalomaniacal, homicidal dreams and that they'd suffered no less than the English victims of the war.

When he came home to Darrowby after being shot down, Siegfried not only suffered from the after-shocks of pneumonia, but also from feeling that the entire world he'd known and loved had fallen apart. But Marjorie had been there, and in her arms he could not only forget, but could also understand that there were things the war couldn't destroy: Love and friendship, hopes and dreams. With her at his side, he'd been able to believe in a better future.

Yet with the prospect of going back to the war he'd needed more than tenderness. He'd longed for the reassurance of love and the sweet oblivion only to be found in the arms of a woman. He'd needed it as a starving man needed bread, and he'd thought that Marjorie would understand him in that too.

Her rejection had hurt him even more than the news about her engagement to David had once done. He'd felt as if he'd lost the ground under his feet and though he'd still loved Marjorie, his doubts had come back full force. And this time it hadn't only been fears about his ability as a husband, but even doubts about Marjorie's love and their understanding of each other.

The worst had been that they hadn't been able to talk or to be at least open towards each other in their letters. , Every day they'd drifted apart a bit more, and Siegfried had watched the rift between Marjorie and him growing - helpless, miserable, and with the feeling of defeat. Then he experienced his second sick leave, not having had a reply from Marjorie to his last letter for weeks. When she had finally written, it was to tell that she was sorry she couldn't make it – and Siegfried hadn't believed her for a second. Although he certainly wanted more from Marjorie than just her body, he didn't relish the idea of being with a woman who didn't seem interested in making love with him at all. He had always been a passionate and virile man who enjoyed making love to a woman and this situation was completely foreign to him.

When he came back to Darrowby after the war, he hadn't even tried to contact Marjorie. He'd been sure that she had known about his return – she had friends in the area, didn't she? And so in a way he'd still held out the hope that she would come home. Sometimes when he was close to her house, he'd drive along, looking up at the beautiful home with the gazebo close to its entrance, but found no sign that its mistress had found her way there. The only lights to be seen in her house at night had come from the outbuilding that had been, he learned, inhabited by Marjorie's old housekeeper who obviously still looked after the place in the absence of the mistress.

Looking at the quiet house no longer hurt Siegfried as it once had. The memories of Marjorie hadn't paled, but somehow the cruel reality of the war he'd gone through had begun to overshadow them. It had felt as if everything he'd experienced with her had been a dream, belonging to a time he no longer wanted to think about anymore. His biggest wish now was to take up his old life again - and so he'd buried himself in his work as if nothing else counted.

But for the first few days after his return there had hardly been any work. During the last year of the war only one of the assistants he'd once hired to take over the practise had remained in Darrowby – and that assistant had neither been the hardest of workers nor an especially competent vet. He'd done only the minimum required, and so the first days after Siegfried's return had actually resembled the days when he had first taken over at Skeldale. The small animal practise had been non-existent and the farmers had only called on his predecessor, the old vet, when one of their beasts was on its last legs.

Siegfried felt as if he'd have to build up everything all over again, and as much as he'd looked forward to Tristan's and James' return, he'd wondered if there would be enough work and money for all of them. Finally, after this phase had gone on for a fortnight, the news seemed to reach even the remote hill farms: "Farnon is back!" The phone and the doorbell had started to ring nonstop once more, and Siegfried hadn't even had time to think. From then on he was on his feet from the crack of dawn to sundown, and often through the night.

Luckily Tristan had returned only four weeks after Siegfried. One afternoon as Siegfried had just injected a rather reluctant cat, Tristan marched into the surgery, grinned at his older brother, lit a cigarette and asked innocently, "Need any help?"

With Tristan back at work, Siegfried was able to take a few hours off from time to time – and he always used them for driving out to Heston Grange, the farm of Helen's father where she and her little son Jimmy lived. Siegfried, who'd always loved children, enjoyed playing with Jimmy and sitting at the cleanly scrubbed old table in the big farm kitchen, eating what Helen had lovingly prepared, with little Jimmy already half asleep after playing with his beloved Uncle Siegfried.

Finally James had returned too and the Herriots had moved back to Skeldale. The old house had become filled with noise and laughter again, but nevertheless Siegfried had felt lonely. With Marjorie he'd entirely lost interest in passing affairs – he had known that they wouldn't have satisfied him anymore because he'd longed for someone to belong to, for a real home and a family of his own.

As Caroline had made her reappearance in his life he'd thought her a Godsend. She was beautiful, well-mannered, loved animals, wasn't too bad a rider, she was able to make him laugh and – she loved him.

It hadn't been hard to fall in love with her again – and having learned from his mistakes with Marjorie, Siegfried hadn't hesitated about proposing this time.

Caroline had given him what he'd most longed for: A child. And of one thing Siegfried was sure: He'd never forget the moment when he held Timothy for the first time. Looking down at the tiny, reddened face, still a bit crumpled from the birth, he'd felt an almost overwhelming love for the boy and for his mother. His family meant the world to him and the thought of coming home to see Tim smiling at him had often made him sing in joy while he drove on his rounds.

Yet his happiness with Timothy hadn't prevented him from noticing that his relationship with Caroline had become rocky, and he realized that they didn't have as much in common as he'd once thought. He was an early riser while Caroline loved to sleep in. He loved sitting in front of the fireplace with a glass of fine wine and a good book, but Caroline definitely wasn't much into reading. For her, leafing through a Fashion magazine now and then was enough. And though he hadn't mind a bit hobnobbing with the local aristocracy now and then, he'd always valued loyalty, honesty and warmth much more than titles, social standing and money. While Caroline probably couldn't imagine becoming friends with a simple farmer's wife, Siegfried was close to many of his clients, never making a distinction between a member of the aristocracy and one of his farmer friends.

Yet the biggest problem in their relationship had always been his work. Caroline simply hadn't been used to the idea that most men worked for a living. Of course, her father had done his share during his political career, but Sir Geoffrey Fisher was first and foremost one of the biggest landowners in Yorkshire. Besides he'd married the heiress of a big shipbuilding company, so he'd certainly never needed to work for money.

The same had gone for most of Caroline's friends. They owned big estates, mostly administered by stewards, and they spent their lives dabbling with horses and hunting.

Men working as hard and as long as Siegfried and his partners had been a novelty to Caroline – and she obviously had never understood that Siegfried loved what he was doing. She'd more than once suggested that he employ another assistant in order to have more time to spend with Tim and herself, but he'd always refused. Although Caroline had enough money of her own to last her a luxurious lifetime and therefore thought it unnecessary that her husband work, Siegfried always detested the idea of living off his wife's money.

So they'd drifted apart. Every argument – and they'd had many – increased the rift between them, and it had become more and more difficult for them to reconcile. All the while, Siegfried had been highly aware that the failure of their marriage was as much his fault as Caroline's – perhaps more. He was the older, more experienced one and he should have helped her more. Yet in a way it had been too easy for him to avoid thinking about their problems. He had his work, Timothy, his friends and his horses to keep him occupied and to fulfil his emotional needs. Under these circumstances he hadn't minded much that even their love life had become virtually nonexistent. There had been a phase during which they hadn't talked much, but at least they had slept together on a regular basis. Yet, somehow even that had subsided without Siegfried even trying to do anything about it. He was getting on in years, he worked a very demanding job and sometimes he'd just been glad to fall into bed after a long day's work without having to give anyone else his attention.

Possibly he had trusted too much in his abilities as a lover. As much as he'd always doubted his qualities as a husband, he'd always known that he was doing fine in the bedroom. Caroline had often told Siegfried how entirely and utterly pleased she was with his lovemaking, and he'd quickly realized that it didn't require much effort to get her back into bed after one of their arguments. Just the opposite – Caroline had always been rather eager when it came to making love and Siegfried soon learned that even after a long disagreement, making up with her was no problem.

But now Siegfried realized he had obviously overestimated his effect on her. Caroline hadn't waited for him to come back at his convenience, but had soon taken Richard Edmundson – the same Richard Edmundson Siegfried had always thought the greatest bore in the dales – for a lover.

Learning that she'd run away with Edmundson had wounded his pride, but somehow Siegfried had known that she wouldn't remain at Edmundson's side. After overcoming his first shock and fury he'd become aware that he couldn't simply let her go. Although he wasn't entirely sure about his feelings for Caroline anymore, she was still Timothy's mother - and the boy needed her. For his sake, Siegfried would have done a lot more than take back a cheating wife. Because of Tim, he'd made sure that there was no scandal. Except for Tristan and Caroline's sister Catherine, no one had heard the truth from Siegfried. Instead, he'd told everyone that Caroline had fallen ill and was recuperating in a milder climate.

Caroline had scarcely left before Siegfried found it necessary to deal with a problem in his household. He and Tim's nanny had never gotten along – she'd told him once that she thought it important for a boy to see in his father an example of gentle behaviour and that Siegfried's rolling around on the floor with his son was completely undignified. Father and son taking baths together and regularly flooding the bathroom, Nanny hadn't liked either. It had always been necessary for Caroline to appease Nanny after one of her run-ins with Siegfried, and without Caroline, things had quickly gone awry.

Tim had awakened late one night from a nightmare and Siegfried had comforted him by simply taking him into his bed. Nanny hadn't thought this was dignified either and she'd told Siegfried so. It had led to him telling her what he'd thought about her snobby ideas, which insulted her so much she announced that she found it entirely impossible to work for him anymore.

Siegfried had solved the problem of what to do with his son during the day by taking Tim with him to Skeldale House. Helen had of course assured that it really didn't matter if she looked after three instead of her two children, and Tim had found it splendid that he was to spend the day with Jimmy and Rosie Herriot.

One evening Siegfried had returned rather late to Skeldale due to an emergency case and found that Helen had already put Timmy in bed. Laughingly she'd told him, "The coal man delivered your order, unloading a heap of coal into the yard before he shovelled it down into the cellar. Tim and Rosie have helped him with that. You can probably imagine how they look afterwards! I had to undress them in front of the backdoor or my freshly cleaned kitchen would have looked like the coal cellar too. So I got the two into a bath, put them in their pyjamas – I've found an older one from Jimmy for Tim – and gave them dinner. Your Tim was so groggy he fell almost asleep over his rice pudding, so I've just put him into your bed. Now I'd suggest that you'll have dinner with us and stay over the night – it certainly wouldn't be too good getting Timmy out now. And you know, later we can put him on the sofa in your room."

Siegfried had kissed Helen's cheek. "Thanks for looking after my offspring. I'd love to have dinner with James and you. And as far as Tim's concerned: It won't be the first time he sleeps in my bed. In the contrast to his mother he doesn't mind my snoring. However, I sometimes think he wants to make sure he remains a single child. He's always parking his knees – and one wouldn't think that human knees could so hard and edgy – where it really hurts. One day he'll make the first gelded vet in the Dales!"

The next morning Tim – even an earlier riser as his father – had wakened Siegfried up with asking: "Pops, can we stay here? I want to play with Rosie and Jimmy again!"

Because Helen had already offered to look after Tim the night before – "Until Caroline is back from her holidays" – he'd told his junior that they would even stay for a few days what had just made for another attack of Siegfried's private parts. Timmy, jumping on the bed in joy and delight, had landed with both his feet in his father's groin.

Except of that their stay at Skeldale had worked well. Tim obviously hadn't missed his nanny at all and he'd even only rarely asked for his mother. Instead he'd enjoyed himself to the fullest, playing with the Herriot children, running around in the big garden, having his father home for most meals, cuddling up to him on the sofa for his bedtime story and sleeping close to him every night. And that had been something Siegfried had loved too. Tim had never wakened up when Siegfried had come to bed late, not even when Siegfried had moved him for making space for himself. However, after a while Tim had always snuggled to his father and he'd always enjoyed to become warmed by the little body in his arm.

Exactly 21 days after Caroline had ran away, her sister Catherine had invited Siegfried to have tea with her. She'd told him about the letter she'd gotten from Caroline and reaching for his hand she'd said: "Siegfried, I'm aware that Caroline has hurt you badly. But she's already regretting it – and you have to think of Timothy. He needs both his parents."

Siegfried nodded. "I know, Catherine – and therefore I won't put any obstacles in her way if she wants to come back. I don't think I'd be up to take her back with open arms, but you can tell her that I'll be as civil as possible under these circumstances. She won't get any reproaches from me, but for the future I expect her not to get me in such a situation again. For Tim's sake I'll willing to come to an arrangement with Caroline which will make us able to deal together at least until Tim's old enough to deal with a separation."

Catherine poured tea in Siegfried's cup and reached him the milk pot before leaning back. "Siegfried, may I ask you a very private question?"

"If you need to ..."

"Do you love Caroline?"

For a moment Siegfried considered his answer, and then sighed. "I suppose I do," he replied. "She's Tim's mother and he's as well a part of her as he's flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood. So I could hardly love him without feeling something for his mother too, could I?"

His sister-in-law scrutinized him for a moment, her small face grave and serious. "You're aware that Caroline loves you?"

"Oh, does she?" Siegfried lifted one eyebrow and looked at his sister-in-law over the rim of his spectacles. "You know, she's got a funny way to show her affection. I couldn't say it's to my liking."

"Siegfried, I do understand you," Catherine assured him. "However, I'm Caroline's sister and I know how unhappy she is. You know, she's always been in awe of you, from the first day on the two of you met. She knows that you're much stronger as her and in a way she's always felt inferior to you," Catherine explained. "She has run away because she's ashamed about what she's done and because she doesn't know how to handle the situation with you. Your brother got her in rather a difficult situation ..."

"I can't see how my brother got her in this situation," Siegfried interrupted her. "In my opinion it was entirely Caroline's doing and so I'd be grateful if you wouldn't try to put any blame on my brother. I think in this case he acted with the utmost tact and sensitiveness, letting Caroline a fair chance."

Catherine sighed once more. "I'm not criticizing your brother, Siegfried. He's done what he thought right and he certainly couldn't know that facing you was the thing Caroline is most afraid of."

"I actually don't see a reason why my wife should be afraid of me!" Siegfried felt insulted. Rising he started to pace through the room. "I admit that I have a choleric streak and a rash temper. I even admit that I've raised my voice now and then, but for heaven's sake, Caroline should know ..."

Catherine smiled weakly and interrupted him: "You mustn't raise your voice now, dear brother-in-law. Although I understand that this entire business is wreaking your nerves ..."

"Oh yes, you can definitely say so!" Siegfried snorted.

Catherine just watched him for a few seconds and then walked over to the sideboard. Over her shoulder she asked: "Scotch or brandy for you?"

"Thank you, neither. I'm still a member of the working community and must go back to my practise later." Siegfried wondered about himself as he turned around to the French window. During the last days he'd rarely felt furious, but only trained and resigned. But now he needed all his willpower for not yelling at Catherine. He knew that she wasn't happy about what Catherine had done either; he also knew that Catherine was very devoted to her husband and a wonderful mother to her children. Yet he couldn't help it – she looked rather alike to her younger sister.

Coming back to the fireplace with a glass in her hand she sat down again. "I need a drink," she announced. "I'm going to suggest something to you and I'm to steel myself because you'll probably try to bite my head off."

"Oh yes, I'm indeed a very dangerous animal. I should be handled with the utmost care!" Siegfried replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm obviously a threat for all members of the Fisher family. One I've already scarred away and now I'm going to bite the next's head off."

Catherine shook her head, sipping at her brandy. "And here we go! Sometimes I find it amazing that a man as brilliant and reflected as you obviously doesn't get what an effort he has on the people close to him. Honestly, Siegfried: How many people do you know who're able to hold their own against you?"

"I don't know what you mean!" Siegfried rummaged with both hands through his hair.

"Then let me be blunt," Catherine answered. "You know Mr Evans?"

"Your father's steward?"

"Yes, the same. He's a Scot, he's proud, strong and to quote my father: Evans is able to outdo every Yorkshire farmer in matters of stubbornness," Catherine told. "However, last week I saw him bustling through the stables like as if someone would have set his trousers on fire. He was cleaning rakes away and floating the horse stables' aisle with buckets of water – and as I asked him if we're expecting royalty to visit, he told me that Mr Farnon is coming and Mr Farnon is so peculiar about dust in horse stables – so bad for the horses' lungs – and he doesn't want Mr Farnon telling him off." Catherine emptied her glass and put it on the table. "I incidentally know that Evans isn't the only of your clients who's doing summersaults when you're to visit. Even Amanda Sterling who certainly doesn't belong to the faints at heart told me once that she doesn't want to be at the arriving end of one of the famous Farnon explosions once again. There are a lot of people who feel rather weakly armed against you in a battle of wits. And when it comes to my sister – she's not dull, but when it comes to you, she's written "victim" all over her forehead."

"You make me look like a monster!" Siegfried said quietly. "The tyrant who suppresses his poor wife ..." He fell silent, remembering that it wasn't the first time he'd been accused of being dictatorial. Tristan had often enough named him "despotic, arbitrary and domineering". But how should he have gotten his highly intelligent, but lazy younger brother through his education without giving him a good kick in the backside now and then? And Tristan wasn't the only one who needed to be pushed sometimes. James w0uld probably still court Helen if Siegfried wouldn't have hustled him into marriage. And in a way Caroline was alike to James – at least when it came to important decisions. She mostly found it already hard to decide about the colour of a new frock and had once mulled for three weeks about what kind of carpet she wanted for her bathroom!

Had he pushed her too often? Had she felt suppressed by him? Her sister obviously thought so – and Siegfried meant to her the little voice in the back of his head again: "Someone like you should never have married. There's no woman walking this earth who's able to live happily with you."

Catherine had watched him quietly while he'd once again paced through her salon. Now he'd come back to the table at the fireplace again and sat down. Softly she said: "Siegfried, I didn't want to accuse you. I've only stated a fact. You're a very strong man – and that is probably what Caroline loves about you. But it's also what she fears."

Siegfried breathed deeply. "You wanted to make a suggestion."

"Yes, I do – knowing that you won't like it much. Nevertheless I'd like you to think about. I believe that the only way to sort this mess out is you approaching Caroline."

"Please?" Siegfried almost jumped out of his chair again. "Next thing you'll tell me is that I shall buy her flowers and jewellery and beg her to come back to me!"

"I don't think it needs begging," Catherine answered calmly. "Just showing her that you're willing to take her back will be enough."

"Oh? And I'm of course to forgive and to forget?"

"Siegfried, there's no doubt that Caroline has made a bad mistake and that you have every right to feel hurt and offended," Catherine said patiently. "But this entire situation doesn't involve only Caroline and you, but your son too."

Siegfried closed his eyes. He was getting a headache and felt tired. "If I wouldn't think of Tim I probably wouldn't talk to you now, but to my solicitor."

"I know and I appreciate that very much on behalf of my sister," Catherine bent once again forward and laid her hand on Siegfried's arm. "I beg you – for the sake of the boy we both love, for the sake of my sister who I love with all her faults and follies – think about it! I know you're a man with a big heart and a very generous nature. You're also a wise man who knows that humans are fallible. Just think about it, will you?"

Siegfried nodded slowly. "I will. I promise, I will." Taking Catherine's hand he rose up, bowed over it and kissed it. "I hope Caroline appreciates what a wonderful big sister you are. I certainly do. Nevertheless you'll have to excuse me now. There's a full waiting room expecting me – and I have some thinking to do."

Actually there hadn't been many patients for evening surgery: Just two dogs for vaccinations, a budgie whose claws needed cutting; a cat he'd spayed two weeks before and who now had been brought to have the stitches removed and a neurotic parrot who always plucked himself and was therefore suffering from chronic bronchitis. So Siegfried had been ready after only one hour what had given him time to sit in the garden before dinner, watching how the children carried boards and tools – Calum had promised them to build a tree house and the trio had become totally excited about that prospect.

Seeing his son – once again rather dirty, with plasters on both his knees and elbows because of falling from his tricycle the other day (James used to say that Tim driving his tricycle down the road was as much a danger for the population of Trengate as his father was driving his car), but happy – made him considering his options. In the moment Tim obviously didn't miss his mother much, but found life at Skeldale with the Herriot children wonderful.

But Siegfried knew that James worried all the time about Helen working so hard to keep the big house clean. He certainly wasn't too happy that his wife had now become burdened with Tim too. Besides: James was looking for a smaller house to move his family in to. Sooner or later he'd succeed.

So if Siegfried was to divorce Caroline and to move back to Skeldale – he loved the old house despite of all its shortcomings – he'd need a housekeeper and a nanny – and he'd probably even need another assistant because even the most devoted nanny wouldn't look all around the clock after her charge, so Siegfried would have to be make sure that he was at home at night. Yet he couldn't burden Calum and James with doing all of the night calls. Besides: As soon as the novelty of having his favourite playmates around him all day would have worn off, Tim would miss his mother.

And there was something else: Siegfried used to take promises he'd given very seriously. Even Caroline not keeping to hers of being faithful to him didn't get him out of that he'd sworn in "sickness and health, in richer and poorer until death parts us".

Helen had called to dinner; afterwards he'd gotten Tim his bath and bedtime story and tucked him in. Afterwards he'd played cards with the Herriots and Calum until Calum had become called away around half past nine. James and Helen had decided to go to bed while Siegfried had offered to clean the glasses. Standing at the sink in the kitchen, he'd heard Helen coming down again – and in the moment she'd opened the kitchen door, he'd finally known what he had to do. Turning around he'd cleared his throat. "Helen, I know I'm already asking a lot of you, but could do me one favour more? Could you please look after Tim tonight and tomorrow? I'm motoring down to London."

"Uh?" Helen entered the kitchen and closed the door. "Don't you think it would be better if you'd first try to get some sleep? You're looking rather drained."

"I don't think I could sleep."

"Well, then ..." Helen filled the kettle, put it on the stove and headed for the store room.

"What you're up to, Helen?" Siegfried asked.

She came back with bread, a piece of ham, some cheese and a plate with the ginger cake she'd baked for the next day. "If you're driving through the night, you'll need a thermos with coffee and some sandwiches," she replied, got the coffee pot out of the closet and set to work.

Sitting down on the kitchen table, Siegfried said: "You know, you mustn't do that, Helen."

"I know that I mustn't." She smiled at him. "But I want to. You know, Mr Farnon, somehow I care for you."

"And you know that I'm awfully fond on you, Ms Herriot?" Siegfried took the knife and the bread. "But I'm allowed to help you, am I not?"

Ten minutes later Helen had hugged him. "Don't you worry about Tim – I'll look after him. But you – keep care, will you?"

He'd kissed her forehead and then he'd driven his car out of the gate and through the lonely, dark streets. In a way it had felt like night duty – and so obviously had Calum thought too. The both had met on the road up Hernine Fell – Calum had been on his way back from a farm in his old four by four and Siegfried had as always hooted by seeing it.

Calum had promptly stopped next to Siegfried's Rover: "Hello, Siegfried!" Despite of the late hour he sounded cheerful and full of energy.

"Hello, Calum – everything alright?" Even with his thoughts occupied by what he was up to, Siegfried simply couldn't stop caring about the practise.

"Of course!" Calum assured him. "But you look tired. Shall I take over this case for you?"

"I wish you could!" Siegfried sighed. "However, I'd be grateful if you could take over a few of my visits tomorrow. James is doing morning surgery, but if you'd do the vaccinations of Pickersby's pigs I'd be very grateful indeed."

"No problem, Siegfried! Vaccinations on pigs are always fun!" Calum yawned and Siegfried was almost glad to discover that even his energetic young colleague obviously wasn't above the need of sleep. "I'm off – bed's calling! Good luck, Siegfried!"

* * *

Now, eight hours later – around three o'clock in the morning Siegfried had stopped for coffee, a sandwich and a nap – he was driving through the outer suburbias of the metropolis. He felt exhausted and drained, but in the same nervous and anxious. Besides he was aware that it was definitely too early for approaching Caroline. As upset as he still was – confronting Caroline at six o'clock in the morning bordered on mental cruelty. Besides ... Catherine had told him that Caroline had left Edmundson, but Siegfried wanted to make entirely sure that he wouldn't meet his rival. The idea of calling at Caroline's place to see Edmundson in his pyjamas – Siegfried didn't trust himself enough to risk that. Although he hadn't been involved in a brawl since he'd been 12 years old he wasn't sure if he'd be able to resist to temptation of parking his fist just in the middle of Edmundson's face. And he was pretty sure that Edmundson, despite of being one head taller and a few years younger, wouldn't stand a chance in a fight – the most the man had lifted in the last years had been champagne glasses while Siegfried's muscles were trained by his work.

Nevertheless he drove straight to the little street in Belgravia where Caroline's flat was. From his one visit there he remembered the little teahouse at the corner. There he could have breakfast, read a newspaper and later use the phone for calling Caroline.

The teahouse was indeed open though the waitress looked as if she'd still be half asleep and Siegfried was the only guest. Making himself comfortable at a little table in a corner he asked for coffee and breakfast though he actually wasn't hungry, got the i_Times/i_ and prepared for reading it thoroughly.

He was just at his second cup of coffee and an article about the crisis in the English agriculture – which he found rather stupid and badly researched – as he heard light steps hesitatingly approaching the table. A shadow fell over him and as he saw up, he saw Caroline standing next to him. She'd obviously rather hastily dressed, wearing beige trouser, flat shoes and a brown blouse. Her hair was simply bound back in a ponytail and she hadn't bothered with make-up.

"Caroline." He stood up and bowed. "Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, thank you." She sounded like a lost child and as she sat down, Siegfried saw that she was shaking. The morning was crisp and she'd obviously just run over the street without a cardigan or a coat.

Shaking his head, he slipped out of his jacket and laid it around her shoulders. "You'll catch a cold." As he'd touched her shoulder, she'd ducked and looked up at him almost fearfully. And now she was wrapping the blue jacket tighter around herself, sniffing for a moment at the label. Siegfried couldn't help it. She'd once too often nagged at him about the smell of his working clothes. "Don't worry – it's fresh from the dry cleaners!" he snorted.

"Sorry, Siegfried." Shuddering once again she said quietly: "I was getting the milk in as I saw your car. So I dressed and came over."

"I actually didn't expect you up so early." He waved for the waitress, ordered coffee and breakfast for Caroline. In silence they waited until the order was served. However, Caroline didn't reach for the pot, but only sat there, starring at the table. Siegfried poured her a cup, added milk and sugar and pushed it towards here. "Here, drink."

She took the cup like a child with both her hands and sipped at it. "I couldn't sleep," she said then, still studying the table as if she'd expect to find the salvation for her problems on it. As she put the cup down on its saucer, Siegfried saw that her hands were shaking. And now she finally looked at him, her big eyes filled with tears. "How is Tim?"

"I think he's having fun," Siegfried replied. "I had an argument with Nanny Smith and she quit. So Tim and I've been at Skeldale the last weeks."

"I'm sure he enjoyed it. He loves spending time with Jimmy and Rosie." Caroline took her cup again, but didn't drink. Instead she whispered: "He probably didn't even miss me."

"Would you rather have liked him crying his eyes out all the time about a mother who just ran away without thinking of him?" He hadn't intended to lash out at her, but his temper had once again got the better of him. Yet seeing how she flinched made him feel guilty. One didn't kick someone who was already down. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply and said slowly: "I'm sorry – that was uncalled for. He asked a few times for you – mostly before going to bed. But you know he's very adaptable and a brave little fellow."

A very small smile appeared for a second on Caroline's pale face. "He's your son, Siegfried."

"He's also yours, Caroline," he replied

"And you hope that this won't be to his disadvantage once ..."

"I neither said nor did I ever think so!" Siegfried said firmly. "Just on the opposite – I actually hope that he's inherited some of your calmer nature."

She bit on her bottom lip and used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe a tear away which had run over her cheek. "You will allow me to see him now and then, won't you?"

"What are you talking about?" Siegfried asked though he actually knew. Swallowing the piece of toast he'd just nibbled at, he added: "If you want a divorce, I won't stay in your way – under the condition that Tim remains with me."

"I'm the guilty part, so my chances to get Tim are in any event rather small, aren't they?" She was crying now.

Reaching over the table to the breast pocket of his jacket, Siegfried pulled his handkerchief out, knowing that Caroline rarely had one of her own. "Here!" He gave her the handkerchief and leaned back, scrutinizing the dim, little room. It certainly wasn't a surrounding one would expect Caroline in, but in an odd way it seemed to suit the occasion. And now it even started to rain outside – it was just like in one of these French movies were lovely women and distinguished men with moustaches sat around in little cafes, looking depressed. Problem only was that Siegfried had never liked this kind of movies.

Pulling himself together he looked at Caroline who was crumpling up his handkerchief. "Caroline, do you want a divorce?"

"Me?" She let her head hung, now wrapping the handkerchief around her wrist. "I don't love Richard," she whispered. "I've never loved him."

Siegfried had once again to curb his temper. Coldly he said: "Forgive me that I can't get myself to care about your feelings for Mr Edmundson. Your sister told me you've left him too, so the question I'd like you to answer is: Do you want a divorce?"

Now she looked up. "How could I? It means I'd lose Timothy ..." And very quietly she added: "And you."

"Me?" Siegfried laughed bitterly. "Considering your actions in the last months one could almost have thought that you'd like to get rid of me. I mean, one normally doesn't leave a husband one doesn't want to lose, you know?"

Once again she didn't answer, but folded the handkerchief as if it were the most important task in the world.

Siegfried sighed. "Good. I take it you don't want to divorce me. I'm actually not keen on it either because I believe that Tim needs both his parents at least for the next few years. Besides I reckon that as more or less sensible adults we should be able to work out an agreement which makes it possible for us to bring Tim up together without making life unbearable for each other."

"An arrangement?" Caroline whispered, swallowed and said, her voice finally a bit firmer: "I know what I've done and I'm aware that I've hurt you badly. But please, believe me: I also know it was a horrible mistake. I regret it deeply and I want to apologize. Siegfried, I'm really, really sorry."

For a few seconds he sat there, his chin braced in his hand, thinking. He'd heard her words and he knew that she'd meant them. Nevertheless he couldn't bring himself to accept her apology. Her betrayal had hurt him too much and now he felt empty and utterly exhausted. He only wanted to close his eyes and to fall into oblivion. Emptying his coffee cup, he finally replied: "Caroline, forgive me – but in the moment I don't feel up to talk about that."

"I understand." Caroline nodded. "But, Siegfried – could I perhaps come home with you? I miss Tim so badly!"

"Taking you home – that's why I came." He yawned behind his hand. "Only I doubt I'm already up to driving back. I should perhaps look for a hotel to get a shower and some sleep."

"You could have both in my house," Caroline suggested. "And while you nap I could pack my things and then – I mean, you could let me drive later. I so badly want to go home."

t.b.c.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: I'm sorry for the long delay in posting, but my beta-reader left me because of real life trouble. So you'll have to bear with my English and the mistakes I always make. I'm sorry, but English isn't my native language!

Disclaimer at chapter 1

_**Crossing the Siegfried line**_

Chapter 6: Until death may part us …

The first weeks after Siegfried and Caroline had come home together hadn't been easy. In public they'd managed to keep the facade of the happy couple up, but behind closed doors, alone with each other, Siegfried had sometimes found it even difficult just to be polite. He'd tried to overcome his disappointment and hurt, but sometimes one line from Caroline, one wrong word had been enough to make him lash out on her what almost always had ended with her fleeing into her room for crying.

He knew that they couldn't go on like that. The failure of their marriage certainly hadn't been only Caroline's fault. They'd been in trouble long before Edmundson had come into the picture and so it was entirely unfair to put all the blame on Caroline and to thread her like a villain. If their arrangement was to work out – and it had to because of Tim – he had somehow to overcome his grudge and make admissions towards Caroline.

However, it was so much easier to think so as to do so! Siegfried's last visit on this day had been the Sittlow farm – one of the places where he always parked his car with the bonnet in the direction of the gate so that he could leave as quickly as possible afterwards. And with Sittlow it was always the same: He only called the vet when he'd tried every quack remedy he knew of – and in this account his knowledge was as great as his arrogance – without success what almost always meant that Siegfried and his colleagues found a dying animal at the Sittlow farm. In most cases the only thing they could do there was helping the poor beast by ending its pain as quickly as possible –what proved to the Sittlows then that vets were absolutely useless.

At this evening the visit at the Sittlow farm had even been worse than usual because this time it hadn't only been the farmer and his five children standing around as Siegfried had put six already half-dead piglets down, but "Ma Sittlow" too. She was the proud possessor of what was probably the vilest tongue in the Dales and if Siegfried's sister-in-law would have heard her she'd probably have reconsidered her ideas about Siegfried always being the winner in verbal battles. With Mrs Sittlow he didn't stand a chance because she simply didn't listen to what he tried to say, but ranted away unimpressed about how vets were only after their clients' hard-earned money and how they spend it for shining cars and horses their poor clients could never afford because they were always "robbed off" by the vets and how Siegfried and his colleagues had probably never done one handclap of "honest work" in their lives. Siegfried had really felt tempted to use his human killer not only on the poor piglets, but on "Ma Sittlow" too and so he'd fled the Sittlow farm without bothering to change his Wellingtons, covered in pig faeces – the poor creatures had suffered from diarrhoea.

Coming home, he'd finally got out of the Wellingtons, putting them in front of the houses' backdoor for washing them later. On socks he'd entered the scullery and thrown his dirty work coat in the sink as Caroline had come in from the kitchen. She'd greeted him with a "hello", and then she'd looked out through the still open door, seen his Wellies and taken them with pointed fingers, put them in the other sink and started to wash them. She hadn't said a word, but Siegfried's patience had already been stretched to the limits by the Sittlows and so he'd felt provoked and had promptly hissed: "Don't play the martyr! I can do that myself! You know, I'm used on it."

Caroline had only shaken her head and sighed, but left him the Wellingtons, standing at his side while he cleaned them. "Would you like to have your dinner now or do you want to take a bath first?" she asked then.

"Oh, don't you worry – you mustn't bear with a stinking husband! I'll have my dinner in the kitchen", he snorted.

"Siegfried ..." She sounded begging.

"Yes?"

"I suppose your day was hard, but I wish you wouldn't let it out on me," she slowly said, her eyes already filling with tears again.

"I probably wouldn't if you wouldn't show me your disgust about my work every single time you're confronted with it!" he hollered.

"I only wanted to help!" she tried to defend herself.

"Ah, you're doing the little housewife act today?" he asked sarcastically. "You mustn't bother with that, Caroline. I'm now used on your ways."

With that he'd hit the jackpot once again. Caroline looked at him, started to cry and ran up the stairs, leaving him to a solitary dinner – or better said: To pick in the stew the housekeeper had prepared because his appetite was gone (and besides he'd never liked stew much). Afterwards he got himself a brandy – a triple one because he knew himself that he'd screwed up once again. Caroline really tried and she tried hard – and what more could she have done?

Slowly going up the stairs he found himself in front of the door to her bedroom. She was still sobbing – he could hear it through the door. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, knocked softly and entered.

It was months since he'd last been in her bedroom and he hadn't even known that she'd redecorated. The green and blue curtains were gone, instead she'd put up something in crème and burgundy, giving the entire room a more female note.

She lay on the bed, her face buried in her pillows and she obviously hadn't heard him entering. Sitting down next to her, he put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Caroline. I really shouldn't have let my frustration out on you."

She didn't turn, but only shrugged her shoulders. "You're right – I'm a failure as a wife. I can't do anything right. But I really only wanted to help you!"

"Caroline!" He turned her around, pulled his handkerchief out of his chest pocket and reached it to her. "I'm certainly not up to win an award for being an ideal husband either. I'm really sorry, Caroline – I was probably rather unbearable the last months."

"Siegfried!" Suddenly, she was in his arms, clinging to him as for dear life. "I love you. I love you so very much." And then she kissed him and her hand landed on his thigh, gliding up the inside.

For a moment he was completely gobsmacked. He certainly hadn't entered her bedroom with the intention to start the intimate part of their marital life again. But he was a healthy, red-blooded man in his forties who hadn't been with a woman in over a year. And Caroline knew him well. She knew that the side of his neck was one of his erotic zones and she was just sucking there and she also knew how sensitive the insides of his thighs were and what her hand there did to him. Besides she'd already undressed and wore only a rather flimsy shirt. He could feel her firm breasts pressing against his chest, he could feel the warmth of her skin under his fingers and even if he would have wanted to resist her – the part of him Caroline used to name "not so little Siegfried" certainly didn't want to. He was up and straining against the fabric of Siegfried's trousers almost painfully.

* * *

There had been something desperate in their love making. Caroline had held on to him as if her life would depend on it and all the time she'd been telling him how much she'd missed him and how deeply she loved him. Yet he'd been fighting with himself because he hadn't only felt desire and passion, but something like fury too. Something in him had wanted to take her with force, had wanted to drive every thought of Edmundson finally out of her head and although he'd still been not sure of still loving her, he'd felt possessive with an urgency which had shocked him. He'd always prided himself on being a civilized, well-mannered human being and on having excellent bedroom manners. Now he'd gotten to see a side of him he certainly didn't like much.

Caroline had finally fallen asleep in his arms with a happy, little sigh, her head on his shoulder and her arm over his chest, her hand resting on his heart. Yet he was wide awake and finally almost glad as he heard the phone in his room ringing. He tried to get out of her embrace without wakening her, but she felt him moving and as he turned the light on the nightstand on, she looked at him out of sleepy, but happy eyes. "Emergency call?"

"I'm afraid so." He kissed her forehead. "I need to go to the phone."

"Poor Siegfried!"

Picking up his trousers from the floor he slipped in and dashed through the hall to his room. Helen was on phone, sounding anxious: "It's the Edginthon stud, Siegfried – a flash of lightning. The mares' stable is burning. They've already gotten most of the mares out, but some are injured and at least one seems to have gone in premature labour due to the shock. I've gotten Callum out, but I can't reach James – he's to a calving over at Pimslow's place."

"Callum already gone?"

"No, he's just coming down the stairs."

"Tell him to bring as much sedative as possible and at least two sets of instruments, as many sterile drapes as he can find and the headlamps from the garage. I'll meet him there!" Siegfried said while in the same time trying to reach to his socks drawer and opening it. Fishing a pair of socks out he locked the receiver between his jaw and shoulder and tried to pull a sock on while balancing on one foot. "And Helen: If James comes in, send him out too, will you?"

Caroline came into his room, wrapped in her dressing gown. As she saw how he sat down on the bed for getting his second sock on, she opened his closet, got a shirt out and a tie out. Reaching him the shirt she put the tie around her own neck, knotting it. Loosening the knot again she pulled the tie over her head and then over his, shoving the knot up under his collar. Running back to the closet she got him a vest and a jacket, then ran out of the room and into hers. Coming back with his spectacles and his watch which had laid on her nightstand she quickly kissed his cheek. "I hope it's not as bad as it sounds."

Siegfried wouldn't have thought it possible, but becoming intimate again bettered their situation. Although he still worked long and hard, having him back in her bed obviously helped Caroline to cope. She hadn't hired a new nanny, but spent a lot of time with Tim, besides she tried to come closer to Helen – and Helen who'd certainly felt how deep in trouble Siegfried and Caroline had been, tried her best to finally befriending Caroline. At least once a week the both women did their shopping together and Caroline even learned a bit of cooking from Helen.

Things had definitely improvised during the summer. Even the information that Richard Edmundson was back home too hadn't bothered Siegfried much, though he'd thought the man rather brass as he'd called at Skeldale only just two weeks after his return because of a lame horse. Helen had been in, working at the bills, so she'd taken the call and told Siegfried about. He'd shaken his head, murmured "The cheek of the man! It's amazing" – and then he'd simply asked James to take over. Of course, it had gotten him James' usual "But you're better with horses, Siegfried!" A look of Helen had stopped James and he'd sighed: "Oh well – I'll do Edmundson's horse. But could you perhaps take over Biggins for me?"

Since then it had always been James who'd done Edmundson's animals. Of course, sometimes when riding out, Siegfried couldn't avoid seeing Caroline's former lover from afar, but he always managed not to run directly into him.

However, coming back to Skeldale after his afternoon round on a rather nippy October day, Siegfried was aware that at this night he probably wouldn't be able to talk to Edmundson. Lady Hulton was to celebrate her birthday and had invited all of her neighbours and friends, including of course the Farnons.

Entering the house Siegfried heard cheerful sounds. The children – and he immediately recognised his son's voice in the choir – were playing in the living room while from the kitchen he heard Caroline and Helen laughing and then, as he was just to open the door, Caroline's voice: "I think he'll forgive me that I told you first. I simply had to, you know? I would have burst if I couldn't have shared my big news with someone!"

Opening the door finally Siegfried stepped in, smiling and the women. "What big news?"

"You were eavesdropping!" Helen laughed. "He always does!" she said towards Caroline, but then just patted Siegfried on the shoulder and disappeared through the back door. "I need some rosemary for dinner!"

Caroline smiled almost shyly at Siegfried. "I was seeing Dr. Allinson ..."

"Oh?" He took her hand and pulled her towards him. "And when am I to become a father again?"

"You were really eavesdropping!" Caroline accused him, but in the same time snuggled closer to him.

"I wasn't. But getting the connection between 'big news' and you seeing the quack isn't too hard, is it?" He kissed her forehead. "Are you well, Caroline?"

"I'm fine, Siegfried – fine and very happy." For a moment she leant her forehead towards his. "And you? I knew we didn't plan to have a baby, but ..."

"Hush!" He kissed her once again and then laid his hand on her flat belly. "Whoever's in here – I'm very much looking forward to meeting her or him. When are you due?"

"Six months," Caroline answered. "You know, I didn't notice this time because I didn't feel sick in the morning. Actually it was Helen who said I should see Dr. Allinson as I told her that I'm already a few weeks late. I really didn't believe I'm pregnant again, isn't it? What would you like better? A boy or a girl?"

"You're repeating yourself, darling! You asked me that first time too," he remembered her. "The answer is still the same: I don't care. I only want a healthy baby, the gender really isn't important."

"But if you could something about the gender – what would you want?" Caroline insisted.

"Probably a girl this time. Having a son is splendid, but whenever I see James with Rosie ..."

Caroline laughed. "I actually hope for a girl too. Considering how Rosie wraps you around her fingers, a daughter of ours would probably be able to make you jump through hoops for her."

"If she'll become only half as lovely as her mother, I'll probably will!" he complimented her. He actually hadn't thought of another child, but now he found that he liked the prospect very much. Perhaps a little girl was just what they needed for overcoming the rest of their difficulties.

"I love you, Siegfried!" Caroline whispered.

Still he couldn't get himself to give the statement back, so instead he kissed her tenderly.

"Pops, why you're kissing mommy?" Tim had entered the kitchen and was looking up at his parents out of big eyes.

Siegfried bent down and lifted his son up. "It's fun kissing your mom, don't you think?"

Tim considered for a few seconds. In the moment he wasn't much in kisses, but had even told his aunt Catherine that as a boy he didn't think it appropriate to become always cuddled and kissed like a baby. But his mother obviously was something different and so he generously granted: "It's okay to kiss mommy."

"I'm glad you approve!" Siegfried chuckled. "And how do you think about your mother giving you a little brother or sister?"

"Am I to become a big brother like Jimmy?" Tim's eyes were beaming.

"Yes," Caroline answered. "In six months you'll be big brother too – and I'm sure you'll be wonderful."

"Yes! And then I'm allowed to stay up longer, am I not? And I'll get a bike!"

"How so?" Siegfried asked amused.

"Jimmy got a bike as he became a big brother!" Tim stated.

"I didn't get one as your uncle Tristan was born," Siegfried held against.

"That was unfair!" his son said firmly. "You wouldn't be unfair, Pops, would you?"

Siegfried put Tim down on his feet and ruffled through his hair. "We'll see, son. You know, we'll still have six months to wait until your little sister or brother will be there."

"But until then – can I come with you on your round tomorrow? Jimmy and Rosie will go with Uncle James tomorrow, so I'd like to go with you!"

Caroline looked a bit worried – she'd always been afraid of cows and the big cart horses and therefore didn't like the thought of her son running around between these dangerous animals.

"Don't you think one of us should keep your mother company?" Siegfried asked.

"Huh ..." Timmy sounded unhappy, but then he smiled again. "Mommy can come here and be with Aunt Helen while we're out."

"You know what, Tim?" Caroline laid her arm around his shoulder. "I have a better idea: If the weather isn't too bad tomorrow, we'll both join your father on his morning round – if he wants us to, that is."

"Of course I'd want you to!" Siegfried nodded.

Caroline in the meantime looked at her watch. "What about the both of you going upstairs now for a bath while I help Helen with dinner? She's invited us, Siegfried and she'll look after Tim tonight. So I've brought your tails and my dress and we can start to the party from here."

After the excellent dinner Siegfried actually would have liked to put his feet up in front of the fireplace, but Caroline was obviously very much looking forward to show her new robe – very elegant in silver, modelling her perfect figure – and Siegfried certainly hadn't wanted to spoil her fun at this night. So a few minutes after eight he stopped his car in front of the Hulton estate, helped Caroline out. And as in old times she kissed his cheek and whispered into his ear: "I'm going to enjoy all the other women envying me for having gotten the most handsome man on my side!"

Being in an exceptional good mood he twinkled at her. "I don't think so. However, I believe that all men will wonder how I managed to catch the beauty of the ball."

They were just entering the house where a footman waited already for helping them out of their coats. By stepping into the festively decorated reception hall, Lord Hulton's butler announced their arrival: "The Honourable Caroline Farnon and Mr Siegfried Farnon, M.R.C.V.S."

Only five minutes later – Siegfried and Caroline were just chatting with Catherine and her husband – Siegfried saw from the corner of his eyes how a tall, white haired man entered, a brunette at his arm. She was behind the butler, so he didn't see much of her. Without much interest he heard the butler calling out: "Her Grace Majorie Duchess of Hartford and Thames and His Grace Thomas the 7th Duke of Hartford and Thames."

Caroline looked at the couple and suddenly exclaimed: "I don't believe it – look, Siegfried, who's just arrived!"

Turning around, Siegfried felt like he'd have become hit with a club. The woman about whose hand Lord Hulton just bowed for a kiss was no one else as Majorie – his Majorie. And she looked breathtaking in dark red velvet, embroidered with hundred of tiny silver stars and a tiara with diamonds and rubies in her dark hair. The man at her side, though not young anymore with his white hair, made nevertheless a dashing figure in tails with the red band of the Bath Order over his chest. Watching how he smiled down at Majorie Siegfried felt a rush of jealousy and possessiveness almost taking his breath away. And now the Duke laid his hand on Majorie's naked back and Siegfried balled his fist. He would have liked to attack the white haired man and to beat the smug smile out of his face. How dared this aging Apollo touching Majorie like that?

"Siegfried!" Caroline was tugging at his sleeve.

Tearing his eyes away from Majorie and her husband, he looked at his wife. "Yes, Caroline?"

"Did you know your old flame is back and married?" There was a hint of jealousy and even schadenfreude in her voice.

Before Siegfried could answer, George Hulton had taken Majorie's arm and was steering her towards the Farnons, exclaiming happily: "Look who's here, Siegfried!" Smiling at Majorie's husband he explained: "Since you're to live here, you must meet Siegfried who isn't only an old friend of Majorie and mine, but a brilliant vet and great horseman. You can't get anyone better for your horses! Tommy, may I introduce you to Siegfried Farnon and his enchanting wife Caroline? Caroline, Siegfried – meet my cousin Thomas Hartford-Thames! And here are the Rees-Claris – Catherine and Jonathan."

Siegfried forced himself to smile politely. "You'll forgive for me first paying my compliments towards the Duchess?" He took Majorie's hand and bent over it, formally just kissing the air over it. Nevertheless the slight trembling of her fingers in his and her still so familiar smell made him almost dizzy. "Congratulations on your marriage, your grace!"

Her voice – the velvet alto he remembered so well – was soft as she said: "Thank you, but I'm still Majorie, Siegfried." And still she managed to make the name he'd never liked sound like an endearment.

Siegfried couldn't bear looking at her. Turning to her husband who'd just kissed Caroline's hand he bowed. "Your Grace ..."

The Duke – and why had he to be so tall? Siegfried had never liked men towering over him – offered Siegfried a kind smile and his hand which was amazingly strong and firm. "Considering that you're an old friend of my darling wife – and she's already told me that you're a miracle worker when it comes to horses and other animals – I'd like you to call me Tommy as all my friends do. I hope we'll become friends now that Majorie and I are to settle down here."

Politeness let him only one answer and so Siegfried forced a smile and nodded. "Then you must call me Siegfried."

Caroline saved him. Smiling at Majorie she asked: "Where you're to live, Majorie? At your place?"

"Yes," Majorie confirmed. "I've missed it so very much!"

"And I was kind of homesick for Yorkshire too," her husband added. He made a gesture covering all of the room and the house. "Here's home for me. I grew up in this very house and this made probably for me feeling more connected to the area here as to Devonshire where my family actually comes from. And, "now he smiled at Majorie again and put his hand on her back, "with being married to a Yorkshire woman who's got a really lovely place here we decided that we'd love living here much better as in Devonshire."

"How did the both of you meet, Majorie?" Catherine asked. "I mean to remember that your husband was once our Ambassador in Oslo.

"Yes, indeed – but that was before the war. After the war I was sent to Japan and that's how I met Majorie. She officially was press consultant in my staff, but actually she was my eyes and ears among the Japanese."

"I didn't know you speak Japanese!" Caroline looked at Majorie. "How does one come to learn that?"

Majorie looked a bit awkward, shrugging her shoulders. "Actually it's my grandfather's fault. He was a merchant and did a lot of business with Japan and so he learned the language and fell in love with the Japanese culture. He brought some very beautiful drawings and other works of art home – and as a child I was totally fascinated by these things. I wanted to know what was written on the drawings and so my grandfather taught me some Japanese. And during the war White Hall was a bit short on translators for Japanese and Chinese, so I learned a bit more of it."

"Actually she's learned Japanese so perfectly that people there always asked where in Japan she'd grown up!" praised the Duke his wife's abilities. "Without her understanding of even subtle things – and the Japanese are the masters in expressing the real important things between the lines – I couldn't have done my job."

While the Duke was talking Siegfried scrutinized him. He was indeed an elder man – probably already in his sixties. Although he kept himself straight and his face was tanned, he'd gotten a lot of little wrinkles around his blue eyes, but that didn't change the fact that he was a handsome man with his long, small face, an almost too perfect Roman nose, a generous mouth and high cheekbones. And in the contrast to Siegfried who'd become rather soft around the middle in the last months, Thomas Hartford-Thames didn't carry one pound too much. Besides he was really tall, standing at least one head even over Caroline – what made Siegfried even more aware of the fact that nature hadn't treated him too kindly in this account. While Tristan had luckily inherited their father's length, Siegfried came after their petite mother – and somehow most of the women he'd been with had been taller as he. In Caroline's case it was almost half a head though she always wore flat shoes when she was with him. Even in this Majorie had suited him better – she was a bit smaller as him, even now with wearing high heels.

To his relief Siegfried saw now another familiar form coming through the crowd towards him: Mrs Pumphrey, wearing a beautiful grey-blue gown, waved and beamed at him: "Mr Farnon, Mr Farnon! It's wonderful to see you and your enchanting wife!"

Her beloved Pekingese Tricky Woo had died a few months before, but luckily James and Siegfried had been able to persuade her to get another dog. Only she hadn't wanted a Pekingese again because "I'd be so reminded of Tricky Woo and I'd probably expect him to be just as my beloved Tricky!", so she'd gotten herself a beautiful Afghan who was in James and Siegfried's opinion the daftest dog ever decorating a posh sofa. Yet Mrs Pumphrey thought the world of him and took even the fact that her Aurelius – she'd named him after the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius because she found her dog so "majestic and noble" – was able to get lost in her garden as a sign of his outstanding intelligence. "He's always so deep in thought he simply can't get himself to bother about banal things!" she'd told James – and as he'd repeated the tale at the Drover's, Tristan had promptly considered if Aurelius and Siegfried were relatives.

But for now Siegfried was really grateful for Mrs Pumphrey and her waxing about Aurelius' newest achievements because it got him a chance to come away from Majorie and her husband. Besides with Mrs Pumphrey he only needed to say "yes, really?" or "how splendid" now and then while he could let his thoughts wander.

For years he'd avoided to think of Majorie. When he'd been on her estate, he'd never asked for her, telling himself that he didn't even wanted to know where she was and what she was doing. This chapter of his life was closed, wasn't it?

Seeing her again had shaken him to the core and he'd become painfully aware that he'd never really overcome her. He still loved her and, after he'd finally managed to go away from Mrs Pumphrey and had stepped out of the terrace for some urgently needed fresh air, he finally admitted to himself. What he'd taken as love for Caroline had mostly been physical attraction and his longing for a home and a family. But there had always been Majorie in the back of his mind and in a way he'd probably always compared Caroline with her – a comparison in which Caroline had never stood a chance.

"Siegfried?" Majorie had found him. Standing next to him on the terrace she looked out at the dark garden. "It's wonderful to see you again."

He thought he could feel the warmth of her body next to his. And there was her smell, this unique mixture from lavender, lilac and lemon he remembered so well. It played havoc with his senses and he wished nothing more as to take her in his arms and to kiss her passionately. He needed all his willpower for not pulling her in his arms and into the dark garden.

Instead he gripped the stone rails of the balustrade and slowly asked; his voice rather hoarse: "How long are you married now?"

"Three months," she answered. "We worked for three years together in Tokyo, then he was to retire and we decided to marry. He's a good and kind man. I'm sure you'll like him." Somehow she sounded sad, her voice radiating melancholy.

Bracing himself with both hands on the balustrade, Siegfried said coldly: "It doesn't matter if I like him. It's you who lives with him."

"Oh, Siegfried!" She fell silent for a moment and then, in a failed attempt to keep her voice light, she started again. "I believe I have to congratulate you. Caroline told me that you're having a son and that she's expecting again. I'm happy for you – you've always wanted children, didn't you?"

"I wanted them with you!" It was out before he'd thought about it.

"Good grief, Siegfried! You shouldn't say something like that! The both of us – that's history, long gone, water under the bridge. Don't you tell me you're still ..."

"I'm sorry." He swallowed and turned to her. "I really shouldn't have said that. Caroline tries her best – and I'm very grateful to her for Tim – that's our son – and the child she's expecting."

"I know you are," Majorie replied softly. She laid her hand on his arm. "Can't we be friends? Just friends?"

He nodded, feeling incredibly woeful. "Yes, let's be friends – that's all what's left for us, isn't it?"

She swallowed. "Yes, Siegfried – that's all what's left. And now we should probably go back before we're missed. Later we'll dance together and then, in a few days, Tommy and I are going to invite Caroline and you for dinner. And one day, dear, dear Siegfried, it really won't hurt anymore." And before he could answer to her, she turned around, her skirt swishing around her feet and hurried back into the hall.

Siegfried hadn't danced with Majorie. He hadn't trusted himself enough for coming so close to her. Instead he'd stuck to his wife and to Lord Hulton's champagne though he hadn't drunken as much as he'd made Caroline believe. He'd wanted to spend the night alone – and the best way to make sure that Caroline wouldn't approach him had been to look a bit blotto and to pretend falling asleep in the car on their way back.

* * *

Three days after the ball he was once again riding through the hills as his mare suddenly raised her head. Her ears were playing and then she snickered, her chest shaking with the force of it. Siegfried stopped her and looked around. It wasn't even six o'clock and he'd believed himself alone in this rather lonely area, but now he saw another rider coming over the top of the hill. He sat on a beautiful, black stallion who'd stopped now too and was raising up on his hindlegs as he heard the mare calling out for him. However, his rider obviously wasn't one to become scared about that. He simply bent forward, putting his weight on the black's shoulders. Getting him down this way, he sent him forward down the hill. For a moment he let him gallop, but then he straightened his back and slowed his horse down to a lovely, collected trot. It was a fine display of horsemanship und even by recognizing the stallion's master as Thomas Duke of Hartford and Thames – the last person Siegfried had wanted to meet – Siegfried could only praise him as he stopped the stallion a few steps in front of the mare. "Well done, Thomas. I really thought he'd bolt."

Thomas Hartford clapped his stallion's neck. "He certainly wanted to. He obviously thinks your mare very attractive." He laughed. "The boy's got taste, hasn't he? She's really a beauty. Out of the Golden Star line, I suppose?"

"A granddaughter," Siegfried confirmed. "Abdullah with a dame by Firestorm."

"Hmm – great horse, great pedigree. Will you breed her?"

"Perhaps next year," Siegfried replied. "She's just five. Your stallion – he's got a lot of blood, hasn't he? But I'm absolutely lost about his lineage. There's something on him what reminds me of Dark Ronald – the shoulder and backline. But this head and his gaits ..."

"You're good, Mr Farnon – damn good!" Thomas Hartford nodded. "He's indeed a Dark Ronald offspring."

"But I can't for the world make out over which line!" Siegfried admitted, feeling a bit miffed. He actually prided himself on his ability to recognize horses and their heritage.

"I don't think anyone around here could." Thomas Hartford laughed and again petted the stallion's neck. "You know, as a young diplomat I served at the German Embassy. So I got to know German horses – especially the Trakehners. In my opinion there are one of the finest breeds in the world. That's why I got this boy as a wedding gift to my wife. He's a Trakehner and indeed a great-grandson of Dark Ronald. I think he'll do fine with Majorie's mares." Thomas Hartford smiled and pointed to the path along the beck. "You're going there, don't you? Would you mind if I'd join you? The boy's a bit spooky when it comes to water, so I'd like to have calm company."

"Let's go down." Siegfried turned his mare. "Bonny actually likes water – she probably enjoys showing your boy how it's done."

By riding along the beck Thomas Hartford smiled at Siegfried. "How's your lovely wife doing? Much suffering from morning sickness?"

"Luckily not this time. With our first one she really had it bad, but number two isn't giving her any trouble. She sometimes even complains that she doesn't feel really pregnant."

"My first wife was always almost puking her poor stomach out – and when she wasn't hanging over a bowl, she cursed me for having gotten her into this condition." Thomas laughed. "The joys of becoming a father – but it's worth it, isn't it, Siegfried?"

"It certainly is," Siegfried confirmed. "How many children do you have?"

A shadow was gliding over Thomas' handsome face. "Two living – a son and a daughter. My second daughter died in a car accident together with her mother. She was just four years old."

"What a tragedy. I'm very sorry!" Siegfried didn't even want to imagine how it must feel to lose a child.

"It was ages ago," Thomas breathed deeply. "My son is in the navy now and my daughter is in London." He smiled proudly. "She's to become a colleague of yours, though I actually hope that she'll reconsider her plans about doing country practise. I'm certainly not one of these old-fashioned fathers who think a daughter should sit at home, doing needlework and boring herself out of her mind until the right man shows up and marries her, but the idea of my little darling becoming kicked by cows, bitten by sows and chased around by horses isn't exactly enhancing a father's rest at night. I've already gotten enough to worry about with Majorie insisting to break in her young horses herself. I'm probably a bit of a mother hen, but every time I see her with a bucking youngster, I feel like calling the doctor. Actually she's just at it again," he proceeded with a sigh. "Therefore she's sent me away – she says me hanging around twitching every time when her horse jumps makes her nervously."

"I'd twitch too!" Siegfried reassured him. He remembered that Majorie had gotten him to fear for her a few times – she sometimes liked to do risky things.

Siegfried hadn't wanted to like Thomas Hartford, but meeting him twice or three times a week by riding out had made for him learning that Majorie's husband really was a likeable man. There was nothing wrong about him – except of him being married to the woman Siegfried loved and longed for.

He was glad that he rarely got to see her – she obviously was still busy with her young horses and therefore not accompanying her husband on his morning rides. Siegfried was sure that even with his new developed liking of Thomas he would have found it exceptionally hard to see Majorie and him together.

It was enough torture to think of the two of them as a couple when Siegfried was driving through the Dales on his rounds and every time when Thomas asked about how Caroline was doing, Siegfried feared that he'd announce that Majorie was pregnant too. Siegfried knew that she loved children und she was still young enough to bear her husband one or two. He wished her to be happy, but the thought of her having children with another man, even with someone as nice as Thomas, hurt.

* * *

It was an odd summer, Siegfried often thought. Becoming friends with the husband of the woman he loved, suffering agonies of jealousy while in the same time hoping that Majorie had found what she needed – that was one part of it. Another was his family life which had definitely improved with Caroline's pregnancy. In the first weeks of it she'd even sometimes accompanied Siegfried on his rounds – much to Tim's delight who liked nothing better as to be with his father. Although he was only just learning to read, pestering his parents all the time about teaching him, he was already able to keep the bottles and jars in the boot of Siegfried's car apart and nothing could make him happier as being trusted with fetching something for his father. Now he was mostly alone with his father – after a few rounds with Siegfried and Timothy Caroline had gotten, that Siegfried looked carefully after his son and that it wasn't only him who had always an eye on Timmy, but the farmers too. Even the most unapproachable ones who'd hardly uttered more as grunt to welcome their vet, smiled when they saw Timothy climbing out of Siegfried's car and undoing his shoes for slipping in his Wellies – he insisted on doing it exactly like his father and he'd of course insisted on not to get "childish" Wellingtons, but black, stout one like Siegfried's. And like Siegfried Tim finished the job always with just putting his second boot an then jumping up for slipping in by already dashing in the direction of the patient.

When coming home after their rounds, Timothy had always a lot to tell his mother and somehow his happiness was spreading. Siegfried was awfully proud on him and his joy about his son got Caroline always to smile. On the other hand her now visible pregnancy stroked a chord in Siegfried. He was looking forward to their second child – and there was something else: His longing for Majorie didn't only make for a bad conscience towards Caroline, but for finally forgiving her the affair with Edmunston.

There was only one problem: For the first time in his life Siegfried had trouble by performing in the bedroom. It certainly wasn't because he didn't find Caroline attractive anymore, just on the opposite. Pregnancy suited her, filling her up just on the right places and making her gloom and it certainly wasn't him lacking tender feelings for her either – though he didn't love her anymore, he was still fond on her. But he was occupied by his longing for Majorie – and sleeping with Caroline would have made him feel like using Caroline and betraying Majorie.

Luckily Caroline didn't mind his reserve in this account very much. She'd come around morning sickness this time, but the heavier she became, the more she suffered from backache. That made her more interested in a backrub as in anything else – and backrubs were something Siegfried always happily provided her with.

As always in the Dales the winter had come quickly and stormy. Now, in the first days of December, it was already snowing. Nevertheless Siegfried's horse needed its exercise only that at this time of the year even he didn't like riding out in the early hours of the morning anymore. As a vet he knew of course that his horse wouldn't have a problem by going through darkness, but he didn't like it and so he gave up his usual after lunch nap for taking his boy out. Unfortunately this change in his schedule made for him not meeting Thomas anymore – he probably still did his exercises in the morning.

After a few days Siegfried started to miss his older friend. It had been nice to have him for company and to talk to him about this and that. Siegfried even missed Thomas so much that he found himself considering riding to the Edgerthon stud for asking Thomas if he wouldn't like to ride at the afternoon now and then. Yet the thought of meeting Majorie kept Siegfried back. Thinking of her all the time was already something what lasted hard on his conscience – he was after all a married man whose wife was to have her second child soon and in a way he'd become a friend of her husband – and therefore seeing her was definitely out of the question. It would add fuel to the fire he tried to extinguish and so he got himself used to riding through the barren land on his own again.

Coming back home at the first Sunday of December he found Caroline on the sofa, looking rather pale. It was four days before she was due and so he immediately asked her if she was in labour. Caroline tried to laugh. "Siegfried, I've still four days and considering it's your child I really can't imagine it will be punctual. You remember, Timmy made us wait for two weeks over his date." She shifted, bracing her back with her hand and moaning. "With Tim I thought already I would have to keep him in until he would start school!" Once again she moved. "Good grief – my back's killing me."

"Shall I give you a backrub, dear?" Siegfried offered.

"That would be wonderful – only you'll first need to help me up and that will probably break your back. You know, I feel like an elephant."

Bending down he kissed the tip of her nose. "I don't have much experience with elephants, but you're certainly a very pretty one." He took both her hands and pulled her up from the sofa and into his arms. For a moment she leaned on him and then she laughed. "It's rather funny, isn't it? Your arms don't even reach around me anymore. And," she bent forward and kissed him lightly, "kissing you is quite an effort."

"It's entirely a question of technique, my dear." He stepped to her side, laid his arm around her waist, pulled her close and kissed her tenderly. "See? It works quite well this way."

Suddenly Caroline twitched. "Uh!"

"You are in labour!" Siegfried stated and reached with both hands for her belly. Furrowing his brow he checked it and then looked at his watch.

"Siegfried, I'm not in labour! That was simply your offspring giving me another kick in the stomach!" Caroline took his hand. "What about the backrub you offered me?"

Siegfried didn't let himself become distracted so easily. His left hand rested still on her abdomen. "Caroline, I think I'd better drive you to the hospital. You don't want me to deliver our child, do you?"

"Oh, it would perhaps be interesting," Caroline tried to joke. "I'd like to learn how you'd like it – I mean, compared to your calves, foals and lambs."

Siegfried rubbed her back. "At least our little one won't be as heavy as a calf or a foal. On the other hand: It won't be up on its feet after 10 minutes either."

"And I'll certainly need more time to give birth as your average cow." By saying so Caroline twitched again and then, shaking her head, she sighed. "It seems you're right again. That really felt like labour."

"Then it's the hospital for you, my darling." Siegfried was already shoving her towards the door. "You'll sit down on the chair in the hall while I call Helen. She'll come to get Timmy and then I'll fetch your bag and drive you to the hospital."

Caroline pulled him back. "Please, Siegfried – not the hospital yet! Last time I was wandering through the halls there for almost four hours before they even got me a bath!"

"Second births are usually quicker as the first," Siegfried called over his shoulder, already running through the hall to the phone.

This time Siegfried's prognosis had been wrong. Allegra Daphne Farnon hadn't been in a hurry about coming into the world. She'd made her mother struggle until half past six in the morning while her father was half the night wearing the linoleum of the hospital's floor off by pacing in front of the surgery door like a caged tiger.

However, as Siegfried arrived in front of Skeldale house around eight o'clock, he wasn't in the least tired, but almost bursting with happiness. He'd left Caroline peacefully sleeping off her exhaustion and he'd already gotten his daughter to hold – and in the contrast to Tim who'd been all crumbles and odd grimaces little Allegra was a perfect beauty with big, blue eyes and a head full of golden, blond hair.

Switching the engine of his Rover off, Siegfried heard the braces of another car stopping behind him. Climbing out he turned around and saw his friend and neighbour Dr. Harry Allinson getting out of his car. Grinning at him he cheerfully greeted him: "Morning, you old quack. Have you already killed someone today?"

Harry Allinson produced a very lopsided grin. "Killing patients is your speciality, cow-arse-specialist. Mine do the killing themselves." His face became serious and he stepped closer to Siegfried, putting his hand on Siegfried's shoulder. "You were a friend of Thomas Hartford, weren't you?"

"I was?" Siegfried felt as if a cold hand had reached out for his heart.

"Yes, Siegfried, was. Tommy is dead. He's shoot himself just this morning. I'm in the moment coming back from his place."

"He shot himself?" Siegfried felt as if someone would have kicked him in the stomach. Leaning against his car, he shook his head. "But why?"

Harry Allinson sighed. "A tumour in the brain – malign and inoperable. It was diagnosed around two years before and was the reason why he retired. Actually the thing wasn't growing as fast as I'd expected it, but in the last weeks it spread and Tommy suffered from severe pain. Besides he was losing sight and his ability to move. In a few weeks he'd been a blind man in a wheelchair, needing help in every aspect of his life."

Slowly Siegfried said: "I didn't know. He never said a word."

"He told no one, except his wife of course. He was a very brave man, Siegfried."

"Shooting himself – that needs some guts, doesn't it?" Siegfried swallowed and looked at Harry Allinson.

"Certainly, especially when you do it as well-planned as Tommy. He left the house before dawn and put a note at the door of his horse's stall, ordering the grown to call me and to send me down into the little forest behind the big pasture. There I found him. He was already dead. The groom thinks he's heard the shot shortly after he came into the stables around six o'clock. Tommy obviously wanted to make absolutely sure that it wouldn't be Majorie who'd find him."

Siegfried had a lump in his throat and felt his eyes burning with tears. "But she knows now?" he asked.

"Of course." Harry bent down for lifting his bag out of the car. "He doesn't look too bad. The bullet went through his left sleeve – he was left-handed – and straight out behind his right ear. I cleaned the wound, covered it and got his grooms to bring him home. While they carried him up, I told Majorie. Yet she'd already suspected something like that. She knew him well enough. It was clear to her that he would have loathed to become a burden to her. They loved each other very much – I think Majorie even looked him so much that she was able to let him go. As I talked to her she was collected and calm. Only as the men brought Tommy's body in, she lost it and started to cry." He sighed once again. "Poor Majorie! She doesn't have much luck with men, does she? I wondered once why a woman as bright and beautiful as her hadn't married earlier and she told me that the war had separated her from the man she'd thought her great love. Honestly, this man must have been an idiot for letting a woman like her go!"

To be continued


End file.
